*~~-- 

I/PARADIS& 


Stuart 


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BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK. 


OLD   MAIDS,  AND  BURGLARS 
IN   PARADISE 


BY 


ELIZABETH    STUART  PHELPS 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND   COMPANY 


1887 


Copyright,  1885, 1886,  and  1887, 
BY  ELIZABETH   STUAllT   PHELPS. 

u4//  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge  : 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  II.  0  Houghton  &  Co. 


CONTENTS. 


PART  L— AN  OLD  MAID'S   PARADISE.  PA6E 

I.   THE  PROSPECT 5 

II.   IN  PLAN 11 

III.  BUILDING 29 

IV.  POSSESSION      .......  49 

V.   INSIDE  AND  OUT.  — ALONE      ....  64 

VI.   MATTHEW  ARNOLD 80 

VII.   MARY          .        .        .. 95 

VIII.   HOUSE-WARMING    .        .        .        .        .        .  Ill 

IX.   HALF  MAST         .        .      '.        .        .        .        .129 

X.   ZERO        .        .        .        ...        .        .        .  148 

XI.   THE  SERPENT    .        ....        .        .163 

XII.   THE  FLAMING  SWORD 181 

PART  II.  — BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

I.   THE  RUMOR       .        .        .        ...        .  5 

II.    THE  SCARE     .......  22 

III.  GOOD  FAMILY  HORSES      .  .        .        .40 

IV.  THE  LADY  OF  SHALOTT        .        .        .  62 
V.   FEE-FI-FUM  AND  I.  0.  U.        .        .        .        .  81 

VI.   THE  BURGLARY 99 

VII    MR.  PUSHETT  117 


M321453 


CONTENTS. 

VIII.    THE  STATE  WILL  PROTECT   ....  137 

IX.  MESSRS.  HIDE  AND  SEEK 155 

JUDAS  JOLIUS 172 

WHAT  is  CALLED  FRIENDSHIP  ....  190 

XII.   RECEIPTED  BILL    ....  205 


PART  I. 
AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

— «— 

I. 

IN   PROSPECT. 

"  I  WANT  "  —  said  Corona. 

Torn  and  Susy  looked  up.  Corona  did 
not  often  say  she  wanted  anything.  Susy 
thought  this  natural.  Was  it  not  enough  to 
live  in  the  house  with  Tom  ?  But  Tom  had 
never  thought  anything  about  it. 

"  I  want "  —  began  Corona  again  ;  and 
then  she  stopped.  What  did  she  want  ?  Her 
thoughts  were  vagabonds.  They  roamed 
a  great  way  from  Tom  and  Susy  at  that 
moment.  They  were  a  lawless,  disorgan 
ized,  hungry  horde. 

"  Nothing  for  tramps  !  "  said  Corona, 
severely.  But  she  did  not  say  it  aloud. 


PA  R  A  DI  SE. 

She  took  up  the  grape-scissors  thoughtfully ; 
she  showed  a  slight  contraction  between  a 
pair  of  well-controlled,  charitable  gray  eyes, 
and  snipped  the  Malagas  leisurely  upon  her 
plate,  before  she  said,  - 

"  I  want  a  home." 

Tom  laid  down  his  nut-pick  and  Susy  the 
baby.  It  took  quite  a  shock  to  make  Susy 
put  down  the  baby.  Corona  colored.  Tom 
was  her  own  brother ;  but  Susy  was  the 
mother  of  her  niece. 

"Give  her  to  me!"  cried  Corona,  hur 
riedly.  "  She  's  putting  up  her  lip.  You  've 
hurt  her  feelings.  And  oh !  Susy,  don't 
mind  me  a  bit,  and  Torn,  you  've  always 
done  everything  ;  but,  Susy,  the  baby  won't 
cry  for  me  more  than  a  day  or  two,  and, 
Tom,  you  must  see  that  to  have  a  place  of 
your  own  " 

"  Get  married  ;  "  said  Tom. 

"  I  can't  afford  to  support  a  husband,  till 
the  panic  is  over." 

"Write  a  book,"  said  Susy.  "It  will 
divert  your  mind.  You  're  morbid.  The 


IN  PROSPECT.  7 

baby  has  kept  you  awake  too  much  this 
winter.  I'll  take  her  to-night." 

"  Experience  with  three  poems,  two  Sun 
day-school  books,  one  obituary,  and  one  let 
ter  to  (  The  Transcript,' "  said  Corona,  calm 
ly,  measuring  off  these  articles  in  shag-barks 
on  the  table-cloth,  "  has  not  encouraged  me 
to  pursue  a  literary  life.  If  there  had  not 
happened  to  be  such  a  press  of  matter  every 
time,  it  might  have  been  different.  The 
editors  regretted  it  exceedingly,  Susy;  and 
the  manuscripts  are  in  the  hair  trunk  in  the 
inner  attic." 

"Go  to  college,"  suggested  Tom.  "  There's 
Boston  University." 

"I  am  thirty-six  years  old,"  said  Corona, 
sadly. 

"  Go  into  business,  then,"  cried  Tom,  des 
perately.  "  I  '11  furnish  half  the  capital.  I 
always  said  you  were  the  better  business 
man  of  us  two.  Come  !  " 

"  Tom,"  replied  Corona,  faintly,  "  was  it 
you  who  inherited  father's  sick-headaches  ? 
If  I  did  not  have  one  every  week,  however, 
perhaps  "  — 


8  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

"  I  give  it  up,"  said  Tom,  after  a  pause. 

"  I  think  if  I  did  not  let  you  draw  baby 
about  so  much/'  observed  Susy,  with  a  ju 
dicial  expression ;  "  and  she  is  growing  so 
cunning  !  And  we  meant  to  put  something 
Eastlake  into  your  room  this  spring.  Did 
n't  we,  Tom  ?  But  we  were  going  to  wait 
for  a  surprise,  till  you  got  home  from 
Aunt  Anna  Maria's.  Besides,  Coro,  if  you 
are  not  contented  in  your  present  way  of 
life,  you  could  make  yourself  very  useful 
by  showing  a  little  more  interest  in  the 
Widow's  Mite,  or  the  Reform  Club,  and  the 
sewing-circle,  you  know  "  — 

When  matters  got  around  to  the  sewing- 
circle,  argument  ceased  to  be  a  sane  method 
of  conducting  conversation.  Susy's  mind 
was  so  constructed.  Corona  sighed.  But 
Tom  interrupted : 

"  There  are  depths  of  human  nature,  Sue, 
which  even  the  sewing-circle  will  not  fill. 
Let  Coro  alone.  If  she  wants  to  go,  go 
she  shall.  Why  should  n't  she  ?  We  went 
ourselves.  You  didn't  stay  because  your 


JN  PROSPECT.  9 

mother  wanted  help  in  scouring  the  pre 


serves." 


"  Scouring  preserves  ? "  began  Susy. 
But  Tom  laughed  and  left. 

From  beyond  the  front  door  he  heard 
Susy  talking ;  but  it  was  a  mild,  safe  chat 
ter,  —  something  about  marmalade.  It  was 
clear  that  her  mind  was  temporarily  diverted 
in  a  sweet  direction. 

Tom  had  that  amount  of  profound  respect 
for  his  wife  which  is  involved  in  a  well- 
assured  and  well-controlled  conjugal  affec 
tion  of  several  years'  hard  use.  Still,  the 
sight  of  Susy  giving  advice  to  Corona  was 
something  which  he  never  found  himself 
able  to  witness  with  that  gravity  which  his 
ideal  of  his  wife  demanded. 

Coro  slid  after  him.  She  wore  slippers 
without  heels.  It  was  one  of  her  "  ways." 
Her  footfall  dropped  at  his  side  without 
noise,  and  he  started  when  she  touched  him 
on  the  elbow. 

"  Co,  what  do  you  look  like  that  for  ?  1 
understand." 


10  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

"  You  don't  mind,  Tom,  dear,  a  bit  ?  " 

"  Not  a  mind,"  said  Tom.  "  Where  will 
you  build  it,  Coro?  On  Fifth  Avenue, 
Pike's  Peak,  or  out  in  my  garden  ?  I  '11 
lease  you  a  lot.  Come  !  " 

"  If  you  do  understand,"  said  Corona, 
hastily,  "  then  there  is  no  difficulty  in  the 
way.  Nothing  is  hard  in  the  world  but 
hurting  people's  feelings." 

"  Perhaps  not,"  said  Tom,  "  unless  you 
count  in  starving,  or  death  at  the  stake,  or 
a  codfish  breakfast,  or  a  few  such  things. 
But  don't  you  bother,  Co.  Go  ahead.  I  '11 
stand  by  you." 

"  Tom,"  replied  Corona,  "  I  'd  like  to  kiss 
you." 

She  did  not  often.  At  least,  she  did  not 
often  say  so.  Tom  and  Corona  had  never 
been  of  "  the  kissing  kind."  He  took  off 
his  hat  —  he  was  in  a  hurry,  too  —  and  they 
kissed  one  another  so  gravely  that  Tom  was 
quite  embarrassed.  But  that  was  not  till 
afterward,  when  he  thought  of  it. 


II. 

IN   PLAN. 

CORONA  had  five  hundred  dollars  and 
some  pluck  to  spare  for  her  enterprise.  She 
had  also  at  her  command  a  trifle  for  furnish 
ing.  But  that  seemed  very  small  capital. 
Her  friends  at  large  discouraged  her  gen 
erously.  Even  Tom  said  he  did  n't  know 
about  that,  and  offered  her  three  hundred 
more. 

This  manly  offer  she  declined  in  a  wom 
anly  manner. 

"  It  is  to  be  my  house,  thank  you,  Tom, 
dear.  I  can  live  in  yours  at  home." 

Susy  said  that  never  would  allow  for  a 
closet  for  the  bedding ;  and  one  lady,  a 
neighbor,  unmarried  and  past  sixty,  asked 
if  Corona  were  sure  it  was  proper. 

"Proper?"  said  Coro,  looking  puzzled. 


12  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

"  Why,  to  live  by  yourself  so.  It  is  so 
• —  so  unusual ;  so  outre.  And  you  're  not 
even  literary.  A  literary  person  can  do 
anything." 

"  So  can  a  lady/'  said  Coro,  shortly.  The 
ancient  neighbor  had  begun  to  say  "  I 
could  n't ; "  but  checked  herself  upon  re 
ceiving  this  reply,  and  went  away  indefi 
nitely  offended.  She  forgave  Corona,  how 
ever,  in  the  fulness  of  time,  so  far  as  to 
make  her  a  red  flannel  pincushion,  orna 
mented  in  a  rectangular  design  with  white 
porcelain  buttons. 

"  So  far  as  I  can  see,"  observed  Corona, 
thoughtfully,  "  the  first  thing  I  shall  need 


is  a  man." 


"  What  did  I  tell  you?  "  asked  Tom. 

"  But  I  meant  an  architect,  or  —  or  a 
carpenter,  or  a  plumber,  or  that  kind  of 
a  man,"  said  Corona,  with  gravity.  She 
would  n't  give  Tom  the  satisfaction  of  laugh 
ing  at  his  poor  joke. 

Corona's  architectural  library  was  small. 
She  found  on  the  top  shelf  one  book  on  the 


IN  PLAN.  13 

construction  of  chicken-roosts,  a  pamphlet 
in  explanation  of  the  kindergarten  system, 
a  cook-book  that  had  belonged  to  her  grand 
mother,  and  a  treatise  on  crochet.  There 
her  domestic  literature  came  to  an  end. 
She  accordingly  bought  a  book  entitled 
"  North  American  Homes ;  "  then,  having,  in 
addition,  begged  or  borrowed  everything 
within  two  covers  relating  to  architecture 
that  was  to  be  found  in  her  immediate  circle 
of  acquaintance,  she  plunged  into  that  unfa 
miliar  science  with  hopeful  zeal. 

The  result  of  her  studies  was  a  mixed 
one.  It  was  necessary,  it  seemed,  to  con 
struct  the  North  American  home  in  so  many 
contradictory  methods,  or  else  fail  forever  of 
life,  liberty,  and  the  pursuit  of  happiness, 
that  Corona  felt  herself  to  be  laboring  under 
a  chronic  aberration  of  mind.  No  sooner 
had  she  mastered  the  theory  which  required 
one  to  believe  that  a  brick  house  was  the 
only  one  which  any  person  with  a  claim  to 
average  American  (not  to  say  North  Ameri 
can)  intelligence  would  ever  for  an  instant 


14  AN    OLD   MAID'S   PARADISE. 

contemplate  building,  than  she  was  gradu 
ally  and  gently  convinced  that  the  sole  ra 
tional  material  was  wrood.  As  soon  as  she 
had  resigned  herself  to  wood,  it  was  made 
perfectly  clear  to  her  that  wood  took  fire, 
and  that  bricks  were  red,  and  that  to  build 
anything  but  a  gray  stone  house  was  artis 
tically  false,  economically  untrue,  and  mor 
ally  wrong. 

Then,  again,  with  roofs.  Roofs,  it  seemed, 
must  be  flat,  or  else  the  builder ;  French,  or 
you  might  as  well  go  without ;  this,  that,  or 
the  other,  or  die.  Corona  seemed  to  have 
entered  a  new  world,  like  a  person  Avho  is 
spending  his  vacation  in  the  wrong  place. 
She  had  never  thought  about  roofs  before, 
except  in  a  gentle,  abstract,  and  entirely 
uncontroversial  manner,  as  A  Roof.  She 
found  herself  abashed  at  first  by  the  fever 
of  low  curiosity  into  which  her  accumulated 
wisdom  threw  her.  When  she  took  her  in 
nocent  morning  walk  abroad,  how  many 
eaves  she  saw !  Her  neighbors  were  tick 
eted  off  by  an  instinct  of  which,  as  soon  as 


IN  PLAN.  15 

it  ceased  to  be  controllable,  she  almost 
ceased  (like  other  varieties  of  sinner  at  the 
same  descent  of  moral  surrender)  to  be 
ashamed.  Thus,  — 

"  Mrs.  Jones,  hipped.  Mr.  McGee,  lean-to. 
Tom  Sizlewort,  French;  slate;  top-heavy. 
Mrs.  Plating,  gravel-and-tar.  The  Wigginses, 
leak  like  the  Deluge."  And  so  on. 

When  she  had  spent  a  fortnight  in  pur 
suing  her  studies  in  this  faithful  way,  it 
occurred  to  Corona  that  the  Architectural 
Manual,  considered  as  a  class,  was  not  inti 
mately  attentive  to  the  needs  of  persons  of 
limited  means.  She  had  become  very  much 
interested  in  accounts  of  several  houses, 
which  ran  somewhat  in  this  manner :  — 

"  Having  selected  your  location,  which 
must  be  perfectly  airy,  light,  and  clean ;  on 
top  of  a  hill,  yet  without  a  toilsome  ascent 
(which  drives  away  visitors  and  offends  the 
coachman),  or  else  in  the  lowlands,  where 
you  are  sure  of  a  fresh  mountain  breeze 
every  afternoon ;  not  so  near  the  city  as  to 
incur  heavy  taxes,  yet  with  horse-cars  pass- 


16  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

ing  the  door  once  in  ten  minutes ;  not  so 
far  in  the  country  as  to  be  dependent  upon 
the  New  England  village  snow-shovel,  yet 
far  enough  to  secure  fresh  milk  and  cream 
from  your  own  cow  three  times  a  day ;  at 
least  within  five  minutes'  walk  of  steam- 
cars,  yet  not  so  near  as  to  be  disturbed  by 
the  vicinity  of  the  half-hour  gravel  trains 
which  it  is  customary  for  most  of  our  New 
England  roads  to  run  at  night  in  the  sum 
mer  months;  a  location,  above  all,  suffi 
ciently  dry  to  secure  your  children  from 
pulmonary  affections,  while  yet  a  sea-breeze 
at  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  is  indispen 
sable  to  comfort  for  at  least  a  third  of  the 
Massachusetts  year  —  having  selected  your 
location  with  care,  proceed  to  build  upon  it, 
we  will  say,  a  modest  house,  of  not  more 
than  twenty  rooms,  small  barn,  a  well-curb, 
and  a  French  roof.  The  house  might  be 
constructed  in  the  Queen  Anne  style,  and 
fitted  out  with  Elizabethan  furniture,  at  a 
very  reasonable  rate.  The  morning  sun 
should  fall  into  the  four  sides  of  the  house  3- 


IN  PLAN.  17 

the  afternoon  sun  at  least  into  three.  This 
should  be  insisted  upon,  even  if  you  dispense 
with  the  Chinese  hen-house  and  the  Fayal 
drain-pipe,  which  we  recommend  for  this 
style  of  residence. 

"  Such  a  house  can  be  built  for  not  more 
than  nineteen  thousand  dollars  at  the  out 
side.  Necessary  improvements  on  the, 
grounds  can  be  deferred  till  the  following 
year." 

Or,  again  :  "  We  will  suppose  that  you 
are  limited  both  in  your  price  and  in  your 
choice  of  location ;  that  your  house  must  be 
as  much  as  twenty  miles  out  in  the  country, 
and  in  entire  accordance  with  your  means 
and  style  of  living,  which,  we  will  say,  are 
small  and  quiet.  Purchase  a  lot  two  hun 
dred  by  two  hundred,  near  post-office,  rail 
way,  telegraph,  apothecary,  doctor,  butcher, 
baker,  candlestick  -  maker,  town  -  hall,  and 
church.  It  is  especially  necessary  to  obtain 
these  conditions  in  the  country.  Select 
quiet  neighbors,  since  your  lot  is  small. 
Avoid  gossips  and  people  who  keep  many 


18  AN   OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

hens,  because  of  their  crowing  if  you  keep 
a  light  burning  all  night,  which  in  the  coun 
try  it  is  always  safe  to  do,  on  account  of 
burglars. 

"  You  want,  we  will  suppose,  thirteen 
rooms  and  a  gambrel  roof.  You  will  need 
two  of  the  No.  1  Magee  furnaces  and  a 
chaise-house.  Your  coachman  should  have 
a  room  finished  off  in  the  chaise-house,  and 
an  L  should  be  devoted  to  the  house-ser 
vants.  The  horse  you  can  board  at  the 
hotel  until  by  prudence  and  economy  you 
have  saved  enough  to  build  a  mediaeval 
barn.  Until  you  can  build  a  mediaeval  barn, 
your  own  good  taste  will  prompt  you  to  go 
without  any.  It  will  be  necessary  to  pro 
vide  gas  and  water  all  over  the  house,  if 
you  wish  to  retain  your  servants.  You  will 
require  a  finished  stone  wall  all  around  your 
lot,  to  keep  out  cows  and  the  lower  circles  of 
society.  Your  dog-kennels  might  be  after 
the  antique,  and  still  leave  room  for  a  bor 
der  of  sunflowers  and  a  few  amateur  vege 
tables.  It  is  always  necessary  to  keep  two 


IN  PLAN.  19 

large  dogs  in  the  country,  on  account  of 
tramps.  Also  chains  at  each  outside  door 
and  a  brace  of  pistols.  A  Corinthian  cupola 
would  be  in  excellent  taste,  to  finish  off  this 
house.  If  the  house  be  of  wood,  a  delicate 
salmon  tint  with  green  blinds  will  give  a 
fine  Doric  effect.  A  small  fountain  playing 
through  tin  calla  lilies  in  the  front  yard,  a 
statuette  or  so,  and  an  Ionic  gate  will  com 
plete  what  you  will  find  to  be  a  most  favor 
able  and  harmonious  impression. 

"  For  such  a  house  we  would  recommend 
that  the  kitchen  chairs  be  not  less  than  two 
hundred  years  old ;  while  the  other  rooms 
are  furnished  purely  in  the  Anglo-Saxon 
manner,  with  a  Norman  staircase  and  Van 
dal  ceilings.  By  no  means  omit  a  Japanese 
museum,  which  should  not  be  encased,  as 
in  ruder  times,  but  scattered  generously  all 
over  the  house  at  convenient  intervals.  In 
place  of  pictures,  hang  your  walls  with  blue 
crockery,  as  much  nicked  as  possible. 

"  The  most  recherche  ornaments  for  a  par 
lor  table  are  cracked  tea-cups  of  a  great 


20  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

age.  A  blue  China  monster,  at  least  three 
feet  high,  must  stand  in  the  front  hall. 
This  has  a  particularly  Buddhist  effect.  We 
have  perhaps  encroached  a  little  upon  the 
domain  of  the  decorator  in  these  hints ;  but 
the  reader  will  not  be  ungrateful  for  any 
instruction  which  will  enable  him  to  make 
a  really  grotesque  and  graceful  house. 

"  Such  a  house  as  this  (without  the  blue 
monster  or  other  furniture)  can  be  built  for 
eight  thousand  five  hundred  dollars.  Your 
land  may  cost  you  a  couple  of  thousand 
more." 

Corona  was  much  impressed  and  de 
pressed  by  these  and  many  similar  descrip 
tions.  She  found  no  American  house  which 
came  within  her  modest  means.  Her  five 
hundred  dollars  would  scarcely  build  a 
Gothic  wood-shed,  much  less  the  Buddhist 
effect.  And  neither  a  blue  monster,  nor  a 
coachman,  nor  a  situation  where  the  chil 
dren  would  be  free  from  pulmonary  com 
plaints  seemed  to  have  a  vital  connection 
with  her  immediate  and  personal  needs. 


IN  PLAN.  21 

Then  the  plans.  Well,  the  plans,  it  must 
be  confessed,  Corona  did  find  it  difficult 
to  understand.  She  always  had  found  it 
difficult  to  understand  such  things  ;  but  then 
she  had  hoped  several  weeks  of  close  archi 
tectural  study  would  shed  light  upon  the 
density  of  the  subject.  She  grew  quite 
morbid  about  it.  She  counted  the  steps 
when  she  went  up-stairs  to  bed  at  night. 
She  estimated  the  bedroom  post  when  she 
waked  in  the  cold  gray  dawn.  At  mid 
night,  when  it  stormed,  she  lay  wondering 
if  the  poet's  roof  in  the  "  long  unhappy 
night,  when  the  rain  was  on  "  it,  were  slate, 
or  tar-and-gravel,  or  if  he  could  afford  hon 
est  shingles  and  dormer  windows. 

But  the  most  perplexing  thing  about  the 
plan  was  how  one  story  ever  got  upon 
another.  Corona's  imagination  never  fully 
grappled  with  this  fact,  although  her  intel 
lect  accepted  it.  She  took  her  books  down 
stairs  one  night,  and  Susy  came  and  looked 
them  over. 

"  Why,  these  houses  are   all  one-story," 


22 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 


said  Susy.  "  Besides,  they  're  nothing  but 
lines,  anyway.  I  shouldn't  draw  a  house 
so." 

Corona  laughed  with  some  embarrassment 
and  no  effort  at  enlightenment.  She  was 
not  used  to  finding  herself  and  Susy  so 
nearly  on  the  same  intellectual  level  as  in 
this  instance.  She  merely  asked  :  "  How 
should  you  draw  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  so,"  said  Susy,  after  some  severe 
thought.  So  she  took  her  little  blunt  lead 
pencil,  that  the  baby  had  chewed,  and  drew 
her  plan  as  follows  :  — 

SUSY'S  PLAN. 


Roof 


Guest 

Closet 

Our 

Room 

Bedding 

Room 

~~         ^_^ 

Parlor 

! 

Dining 

Kitchen 

! 

Room 

Ell 

Nursery  and  your  room  behind. 


Corona  made  no  comment  upon  this  plan, 
except  to  ask  Susy  if  that  were  the  way  to 
spell  L ;  and  then  to  look  in  the  dictionary, 


IN  PLAN.  23 

and  find  that  it  was  not  spelled  at  all.  Tom 
came  in,  and  asked  to  see  what  they  were 
doing. 

"  I  'm  helping  Corona,"  said  Susy,  with 
much  complacency.  "  These  architects' 
things  don't  look  any  more  like  houses  than 
they  do  like  the  first  proposition  in  Euclid ; 
and  the  poor  girl  is  puzzled." 

"/'//  help  you  to-morrow,  Co,"  said  Tom, 
who  was  in  too  much  of  a  hurry  to  glance 
at  his  wife's  plan.  But  to-morrow  Tom 
went  into  town  by  the  early  train,  and  when 
Corona  emerged  from  her  "  North  American 
Homes,"  with  wild  eye  and  knotted  brow,  at 
5  o'clock  p.  M.,  she  found  Susy  crying  over 
a  telegram,  which  ran  :  — 

Called  to  California  immediately.  Those  lost 
cargoes  A  No.  1  hides  turned  up.  Can't  get 
home  to  say  good-by.  Send  overcoat  and  flan 
nels  by  Simpson  on  midnight  express.  Gone  four 

weeks.     Love  to  all. 

TOM. 

This  unexpected  event  threw  Corona  en 
tirely  upon  her  own  resources;  and,  after  a 


24  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

few  days  more  of  patient  research,  she  put 
on  her  hat,  and  stole  away  at  dusk  to  a 
builder  she  knew  of  down-town  —  a  nice, 
fatherly  man,  who  had  once  built  a  piazza 
for  Tom  and  had  just  been  elected  super 
intendent  of  the  Sunday-school.  These 
combined  facts  gave  Corona  confidence  to 
trust  her  case  to  his  hands.  She  carried  a 
neat  little  plan  of  her  own  with  her,  the 
result  of  several  days'  hard  labor.  Susy's 
plan  she  had  taken  the  precaution  to  cut 
into  paper  dolls  for  the  baby.  Corona  found 
the  good  man  at  home,  and  in  her  most 
business-like  manner  presented  her  points. 

"  Got  any  plan  in  yer  own  head  ?  "  asked 
the  builder,  hearing  her  in  silence.  In  si 
lence  Corona  laid  before  him  the  paper 
which  had  cost  her  so  much  toil. 

It  was  headed  in  her  clear  black  hand :  — 

PLAN 
FOR  A   SMALL   HUT  HAPPY 

HOME. 
This  was 


IN  PLAN. 


25 


CORONA'S  PLAN. 


GROUND   FLOOR. 


Back 
Door. 


w          Library 

^       / 

w 
Kitchen        * 

Door 

Door 

^ 

X 

HaU 

w           Parlor 

^ 

Dining  Boom    w, 

f  w 

Front 
Door. 


w 

w      Bedroom         \ 

Hall 

vr 
/       Bedroom        w 

w        Bedroom         > 
w 

V        Bedroom         w 
w 

SECOND   FLOOR. 


26  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

"  Well/'  said  the  builder,  after  a  silence, 
—  "  well,  I  've  seen  worse." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Corona,  faintly. 

"  How  does  she  set?"  asked  the  builder. 

"Who  set?"  said  Corona,  a  little  wildly. 
She  could  think  of  nothing  that  set  but 
hens. 

"  Why,  the  house.  Where 's  the  points  o' 
compass  ?  " 

"I  hadn't  thought  of  those,"  said 
Corona. 

"  And  the  chimney,"  suggested  the 
builder.  "  Where  's  your  chimneys  ?  " 

"  I  did  n't  put  in  any  chimneys,"  said 
Corona. 

"  Where  do  you  count  on  your  stairs  ?  " 
pursued  the  builder. 

"  Stairs  ?     I  —  forgot  the  stairs." 

"That's  natural,"  said  Mr.  Timbers. 
"  Had  a  plan  brought  me  once  without  an 
entry  or  a  window  to  it.  It  was  n't  a 
woman  did  it,  neither.  It  was  a  widower, 
in  the  noospaper  line.  What 's  your  scale  ?  " 

"  Scale  ?  "  asked  Corona,  without  anima 
tion. 


IN  PLAN.  27 

"Scale  of  feet.     Proportions." 

"  Oh !  I  did  n't  have  any  scales,  but  I 
thought  about  forty  feet  front  would  do.  I 
have  but  five  hundred  dollars.  A  small 
house  must  answer." 

The  builder  smiled.  He  said  he  would 
show  her  some  plans.  He  took  a  book  from 
his  table  and  opened  at  a  plate  representing 
a  small,  snug  cottage,  not  uncomely.  It 
stood  in  a  flourishing  apple  orchard,  and  a 
much  larger  house  appeared  dimly  in  the 
distance,  upon  a  hill.  The  cottage  was 
what  is  called  a  "  story-and-half  "  and  con 
tained  six  rooms.  The  plan  was  drawn 
with  the  beauty  of  science. 

"There,"  said  Mr.  Timbers,  "I  know  a 
lady  built  one  of  those  upon  her  brother-in- 
law's  land.  He  give  her  the  land,  and  she 
just  put  up  the  cottage,  and  they  was  all  as 
pleasant  as  pease  about  it.  That's  about 
what  I  'd  recommend  to  you,  if  you  don't 
object  to  the  name  of  it." 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  the  name  ?  " 
asked  Corona. 


28  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

"Why,"  said  the  builder,  hesitating,  "it 
is  called  the  Old  Maid's  House  —  in  the 
book." 

"  Mr.  Timbers,"  said  Corona,  with  decis 
ion,  "  why  should  we  seek  further  than  the 
truth  ?  I  will  have  that  house.  Pray  draw 
me  the  plan  at  once." 


III. 

BUILDING. 

CORONA  had  now  decided  to  build  Let 
house,  and  how  to  build  it.  She  had  also 
concluded  to  build  at  once.  These  points 
were  clear  and  simple.  But  another  re 
mained.  One  day  Susy  said,  carelessly, 
"  I  forgot  to  ask  you  where  ?  "  and  Corona 
said,  "  Where  what  ?  " 

"  Where  you  are  going  to  have  your 
house,  Sweetens-eetens-eet !  Was  she  petsy 
Mamma's  pet  ounlydountytweetens  ! "  said 
Susy. 

These  latter  remarks  Corona  recognized, 
from  their  high  intellectual  nature  and 
great  perspicacity  of  construction,  as  not 
addressed  personally  so  much  to  herself  as 
to  the  baby ;  who  was  amiably  striking  her 
mother  in  the  face  at  that  moment  with 


30  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

both  fists  clenched  in  an  engaging  manner 
peculiar  to  her  species. 

Corona  replied  that  she  was  hesitating 
between  Patagonia  and  Alaska.  » 

"  Be  sure  and  get  near  enough  for  us  to 
drive,"  vaguely  suggested  Susy,  who  never 
heard  anything  anybody  said  when  the  baby 
was  more  interesting  than  usual. 

"  It  won't  make  any  more  real  difference 
to  them  —  than  that !  "  said  Corona  to  her 
self,  in  that  bitter  little  mental  aside  in 
which  the  sweetest  and  sunniest  people  liv 
ing  the  solitary  life  will  indulge  now  and 
then. 

So  far  as  is  clearly  known,  perhaps,  this 
was  the  moment  in  which  she  decided  to 
build  in  Fairharbor. 

Fairharbor  is  in  Massachusetts.  Corona 
had  spent  several  seasons  there,  in  the  un 
certain  capacity  of  "  summer  folks  "  and 
"  perm'nent  boarder."  Her  experience  with 
landladies  had  been  large,  varied,  and  pa 
thetic,  and  just  as  she  had  found  one  to 
whom  she  thought  she  could  be  happy  to 


BUILDING.  31 

return  year  by  year,  the  excellent  woman 
-  like  other  people  who  have  reached  an 
unusual  pitch  of  sanctification  —  died. 

Yet  what  were  summer  without  the  sea, 
• —  its  purpose,  its  passion,  its  rapture  ? 

"  I  will  build  my  house,"  said  Corona,  "  in 
Fairharbor." 

And  so  it  was  settled.  To  be  sure,  Susy 
said  she  did  not  see  how  Corona  could  de 
cide  anything  so  important  while  Torn  was 
away.  But,  nevertheless,  it  was  settled. 

Corona  went  on  to  Fairharbor  with  the 
builder,  to  select  and  lease  her  land.  When 
I  say  that  it  was  March,  I  need  add  noth 
ing  about  the  weather.  Corona  felt  very 
independent  and  very  cold.  She  and  the 
builder  stood  together  on  the  cliff-side  which 
she  had  chosen,  and  yelled  at  one  another 
through  the  thunder  of  the  wind  and  surf. 

"  Beautiful  view  !  "  screamed  Corona,  try 
ing  to  look  rapturously  upon  the  familiar 
outlines  of  sea  and  harbor,  shore,  and  town, 
and  sky,  beating  about  there  now,  sullenly 
and  confused  in  the  untamed  air. 


32  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

"  Just  so ! "  cried  the  builder.  "  I  would  n't 
have  it  more  'n  fifty- two,  if  I  was  you." 

"  I  said  a  lovely  vie-ew-ew ! "  shrieked 
Corona. 

"  Oh  !  yes.  S'pose  it  is.  Yes.  Thought 
you  referred  to  the  proportions.  Land  be 
ing  skerce  and  high.  Fifty-two  feet  square 
ought  to  do  you,  I  should  say.  Have  to 
chain  her,  though." 

"  Chain  who  ?  "  (It  was  too  cold  to  sur 
render  force  to  grammar.) 

"  Why,  the  house." 

«  Chain  to  what  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  rock." 

"What  for?" 

Corona  had  approached  the  builder,  strug 
gling  against  the  "  storm,"  as  she  had  long 
since  learned  from  Fairharborians  to  call  the 
wind  that  came  without  the  rain. 
,  "Well,"  said  the  builder,  "I  don't  wish 
to  be  discouragin'.  T  know  ladies  will  have 
notions  about  views  and  lo-cations.  It 's  to 
be  expected.  Bat  this  spot  you  've  chose  is 
the  most  exposed  of  any  I  can  perspect  in 


BUILDING.  33 

Fairharbor.  If  you  don't  chain  yourself  to 
the  rock,  you  may  find  yourself  down  on 
the  beach  yonder  some  mornin'.  But  I 
wouldn't  wish  to  be  discouraging.  And  if 
you  chain  her,  she  can't." 

"  Mr.  Timbers,"  said  Corona,  decidedly, 
"I  object  to  living  in  a  chained  house.  I 
should  feel  as  if  my  house  were  my  slave, 
and  not  my  friend.  I  want  my  house  to  be 
my  best  friend." 

"  Eh !  "  said  Mr.  Timbers,  with  a  quick, 
intelligent  smile.  "  So  ye  may  ;  so  ye  may. 
I  understand.  Houses  are  like  folks.  They 
like  to  be  petted  and  made  of.  She  don't 
want  to  be  neglected,  a  house  don't.  Now, 
when  you  close  'em  and  leave  'em,  a  house 
feels  it.  A  house  degenerates  and  runs  to 
wrack  twice  as  soon  as  if  't  was  wore  by 
livin'  in  it.  Just  as  it  is  with  persons. 
They  degenerate  if  they  live  alone  too  long. 
Yes,  houses  are  like  folks ;  but  chains  won't 
hurt  her.  She  won't  mind." 

"  I  shall,  if  she  does  n't,"  returned  Corona, 
persistently.  "  We  must  find  a  spot  where 


34  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

my  house  will  be  contented  to  stay  of  its 
own  free  will." 

When  they  had  wandered  about  in  the 
wind  and  discussed  the  matter  till  Corona 
was  quite  hoarse,  when  she  had  pointed  out 
to  the  builder  all  the  locations  which  she 
liked,  and  when  the  builder  had  raised  in 
superable  objections  to  every  one,  Corona 
suggested  that  if  he  could  find  a  place  not 
too  windy  nor  too  sunny,  too  hard,  too  soft, 
too  wet,  too  dry,  too  anything,  he  should 
select  the  spot  himself  and  put  the  house  on 
it  at  once. 

"  All  I  ask  is  permission  to  live  in  it," 
said  Corona,  meekly.  "  Do  as  you  like.  I 
shall  perish  if  I  stay  here  another  minute, 
and  I  've  no  heir  to  leave  the  place  to  but 
my  sister-in-law,  who  has  neuralgia  at  the 
seaside." 

"  No  offense,  I  hope  ? "  asked  Mr.  Tim 
bers,  anxiously;  "  but,  you  see,  women-folks 
dont  know  so  much  as  they  might.  I  '11 
blast  out  this  ridge  for  ye,  if  ye  say  so  — 
the  house  is  yours  ;  but  it  would  cost  you 
a  hundred  more,  besides  the  damp." 


BUILDING.  35 

"  Blast  the  ridge  !  "  replied  Corona.  Bat 
she  saved  her  good  name  by  an  interroga 
tion  point.  "  Blast  the  ridge  ?  No,  we  will 
let  the  ridge  go.  Build  in  the  harbor,  if 
you  want  to  ;  only  build,  and  let  me  go  and 
get  warm."  Thereupon  Corona  made  her 
way  to  the  nearest  house,  crouching  in  the 
grasp  of  the  terrible  blast  as  she  was  blown, 
slipping  and  running,  over  the  "  sweet 
fields "  and  hearty  rocks  so  dear  to  her, 
but  alien  now,  with  the  thin  ice  and  dry, 
sparse  snow  of  the  unfamiliar  time.  Mr. 
Timbers  remained,  to  take  some  measure 
ments,  in  company  with  the  owner  of  the 
land. 

They  were  fishing  people  in  the  house 
whither  Corona  fled  —  neighbors  and  friends. 
They  gave  her  the  great  welcome  of  sea- 
bound  and  solitary  families.  They  held  her 
by  the  purple  hands  and  piled  the  wood 
upon  the  kitchen  stove.  They  said,  "Is 
your  health  good  in  winter-time  ? "  They 
looked  at  her  fondly.  They  had  never  seen 
her  in  the  winter  before.  The  children  of 


36  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

the  house  put  their  fingers  timidly  upon 
her  furs.  They  had  always  thought  of  her 
as  wearing  white  linen  and  straw  hats  the 
whole  year  round. 

Corona  felt  her  heart  warm  toward  these 
good  people.  When  they  said  they  were 
glad  she  was  going  to  build  and  settle  down 
amongst  us,  she  thanked  them  gratefully. 
She  looked  over  at  the  sheltered  spot  below 
her  favorite  bowlder,  where  the  figures  of 
the  men  passed  to  and  fro,  taking  surveyor's 
measurement  for  her  little  lot  of  precious 
shore  and  her  infinity  of  sea  ;  and  it  seemed 
to  her  as  if  she  were  acting  in  the  first 
scene  of  a  dramatic  poem,  gentle  and  grave 
enough,  but  long  and  sweet  and  full  of  al 
luring  uncertainties.  She  had  never  thought 
that  uncertainty  could  seem  pleasant  to  one 
again,  after  one  was  done  with  being  young. 
When  she  saw  Mr.  Timbers  strike  a  pick 
into  the  ground  and  set  a  crowbar  down  to 
the  frozen  heart  of  her  future  home,  she 
thrilled  from  head  to  foot. 

"  I  '11  warm  a  bigger  place  for  you  to  look 


BUILDING.  37 

out/'  said  one  of  the  children,  breathing  on 
the  frosted  pane.  This  kind  intent  proving 
unsuccessful  —  for  the  frost  was  dense  — • 
the  boy  licked  the  window  generously. 

"  Oh,  thank  you  !  "  said  Corona,  in  a  glow 
of  feeling. 

"  It 's  been  a  cold  winter/'  said  the  wo 
man  of  the  house.  "  We  've  burned  a  sight 
of  coal.  It 's  taken  six  ton  to  keep  this 
house  warm  —  these  five  rooms.  When  I 
lived  up-town,  back  from  the  water,  I  made 
a  ton  last.  It  comes  hard.  And  William  's 
had  back  luck.  Nor  the  boys  ain't  done 
much  better.  But  I  'd  rather  live  down 
here.  I  can  watch  the  boat.  There  !  That 's 
their  sail." 

Corona  looked  out  through  the  uncur 
tained  spot  that  the  kindness  of  her  little 
host  had  left  for  her  glad  and  hopeful  eyes. 
She  saw  the  chilly  white  speck  on  the  gray 
horizon.  The  nearer  water  showed  blue 
and  cold.  And  on  the  beach,  where  she 
had  always  seen  the  hot  sand  glitter,  flecks 
of  ice  lay  tossing  with  the  weeds.  They 
had  a  cruel  look,  like  teeth. 


38  AN  OLD  MAID'S   PARADISE. 

Corona  turned  to  the  fisher-people  with  a 
feeling  new  and  gentle,  such  as  she  had 
never  had  to  any  one  before.  She  thought 
of  their  scant,  denied,  imperilled  lives, 
their  uncomplaining  and  courageous  hearts. 
When  the  good  woman  brought  hot  tea 
for  her,  she  said  to  herself,  "  We  shall  be 
neighbors."  It  seemed  to  her  she  had  never 
really  had  a  neighbor.  She  experienced  a 
new  emotion. 

"  We  've  got  her  laid/'  said  Mr.  Timbers, 
coming  in?  —  "  we  've  got  her  laid  out  true  ; 
and  when  you  and  him  have  signed  your 
lease,  that 's  all  you  've  got  to  do  about  her. 
I  '11  have  my  men  to  work  first  day  the 
frost  gets.  It  won't  be  long,  now.  S'pose 
you  like  it  here  in  summer,  eh  ?  It  appears 
to  me  it 's  a  little  windy." 

Soon  after  her  first  trip  to  Fairharbor, 
Corona  went  a  little  way  into  the  country, 
to  visit  an  old  schoolmate  with  a  new  baby. 
One  day  the  baby  fell  into  the  fire,  and 
Corona  sprang  to  pick  it  out,  and  sprained 


BUILDING.  39 

her  ankle.  This  gallant  deed  and  its  unto 
ward  consequence  confined  her  for  some 
weeks  to  the  house. 

Mr.  Timbers  had  said  that  he  thought  it 
would  be  well  for  her  to  run  down  to  Fair- 
harbor  occasionally  during  the  erection  of 
her  house  ;  and  Corona  had  said  that  she 
should  certainly  come  very  often. 

Meanwhile,  the  carpenters  were  at  work. 
Corona  had  contracted  with  Mr.  Timbers 
that  the  cottage  should  be  finished  by  the 
middle  of  May.  She  had  made  this  pro 
vision  with  a  keen  sense  of  the  accepted 
helplessness  of  her  sex  in  such  matters,  and 
a  keener  desire  to  be  on  her  guard  against 
the  traditional  imposition  of  the  builders. 
She  would  have  expected  Mr.  Timbers  to 
cheat  her,  had  he  not  been  superintendent 
of  the  Sunday-school.  And  now  here  she 
was,  wearing  upon  the  delicate  health  of 
her  hostess ;  dependent  upon  the  surgery 
of  a  more  than  rural  doctor,  who  said  he 
had  dog-nosed  the  case ;  and  reduced  en 
tirely  to  her  imagination  and  the  daily  mail 


40  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

(it  seemed  to  make  everything  worse  that 
it  was  brought  five  miles  by  a  stage-coach) 
for  any  knowledge  of  her  now  sacred  and 
absorbing  interests  at  Fairharbor. 

The  builder  wrote  often.  One  day  he 
asked,  Would  she  have  cedar  post  ? 

And  Corona,  whose  architectural  educa 
tion  was  already  rusting  out,  wrote  back  : 
"  What  do  I  need  a  cedar  post  for  ?  " 

Another  time  he  said  that  the  A  No.  1 
shingles  he  ordered  had  not  come ;  but,  by 
mistake,  only  the  best  pine  shingles.  He 
thought  he  might  use  those,  seeing  they 
were  on  hand,  and  he  would  make  it  square 
on  the  estimate.  Corona,  in  some  indigna 
tion,  telegraphed  that,  of  course,  she  wanted 
the  best  pine  shingles  under  any  circum 
stances. 

Mr.  Timbers  leisurely  replied  that  best 
shingles  did  not  mean  best  shingles,  and 
that  nothing  was  best  but  A  No.  1.  This 
was  honest  but  perplexing,  and  in  either 
light  it  was  lost  time. 

The    next    day    he    sent   word    that    he 


BUILDING.  41 

thought  the  kitchen  closet  had  better  be 
built  in  the  parlor,  and  that,  if  'twas  his 
he  'd  turn  the  piazza  the  lee  side  of  the 
house ;  that  one  of  his  men  had  hammered 
a  finger  off,  and  one  was  drunk,  and  an 
other  had  a  baby  to  bury,  which  delayed 
the  work  ;  that  he  thought  he  should  leave 
the  kitchen  unfinished  till  she  got  there,  on 
account  of  the  sink  and  a  few  such  ;  and 
that  the  weather  was  against  them,  for  it 
had  rained  ever  since  he  began. 

Then  followed  a  peculiarly  harrowing 
correspondence  about  details,  which  at  this 
helpless  distance  assumed  enormous  and 
morbid  importance  in  Corona's  mind,  and 
the  discussion  of  which  Mr.  Timbers  always 
closed  with  the  remark  that  the  weather 
was  against  them  and  it  had  rained  ever 
since  they  began.  It  was  invariably  bright 
sunlight  when  Corona  received  these  let 
ters. 

For  the  first  time,  she  began  to  wish  that 
Tom  were  at  home  to  help  her  ;  but  the 
Corliss  engine  could  not  have  wrung  from 


42  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

her  the    acknowledgment   of    this   not  un 
worthy  sentiment. 

She  found  a  certain  relief  in  occupying 
herself  with  preparations  for  the  internal  ar 
rangements  of  her  home.  Susy  had  prom 
ised  (if  there  were  a  closet  for  it)  to  pro 
vide  the  bedding  ;  and  the  mother  of  the 
baby  that  fell  into  the  fire  kindly  agreed  to 
mark  the  pillow-cases  in  tambour  cotton. 
Corona  felt  grateful  for  the  removal  of 
these  important  burdens.  But  enough  re 
mained.  As  she  lay  upon  her  lounge,  in  her 
friend's  "  spare  room,"  they  gathered  awful 
proportions.  Things  to  be  done  dawned 
upon  her,  one  at  a  time,  in  a  diseased,  spo 
radic  way.  Now  it  was  the  fixture  of  a 
bedroom  curtain.  Now  a  poker  for  the 
parlor  grate.  Then  she  remembered  she 
had  n't  any  grate  to  poke.  Then,  by  some 
incredible  psychological  caprice,  her  atten 
tion  would  concentrate  itself  upon  the 
clothes-horse.  Did  clothes-horses  grow  in 
Fairharbor  ?  How  should  she  get  one  from 
Boston,  if  they  did  n't  ?  Suddenly  she  would 


BUILDING.  43 

be  overcome  by  a  fierce  anxiety  about  the 
nature  of  waffle-irons,  and  then  she  would 
remember  that  she  must  have  a  broom.  In 
the  depths  of  the  night  there  would  mys 
teriously  darken  down  upon  her  the  con 
sciousness  that  she  could  never  keep  house 
without  salt-cellars.  In  the  sparkle  of  the 
dawn  she  would  jerk  herself  feverishly  up 
right  in  bed,  to  wonder  if  dish-towels  came 
fringed.  At  moments  her  whole  soul  reeled 
beneath  the  prospect  of  getting  her  sheets 
marked ;  and  at  others  the  realization  of 
the  fact  that  she  must  have  soft  soap  for 
Mondays  seemed  a  burden  greater  than  she 
could  bear.  Two  things  in  particular  as 
sumed  curious  and  portentous  shapes  in  her 
imagination.  One  was  the  clothes-post,  and 
another  was  the  hogshead  for  rain-water. 
How  should  she  get  the  hogshead  ?  How 
should  she  get  any  rain,  if  she  had  a  hogs 
head  ?  How  could  she  keep  house  till  she 
had  a  clothes-post  ?  And  how  could  she  get 
a  clothes-post  till  she  had  begun  to  keep 
house  ?  Night  after  night  she  dreamed  of 


44  AN  OLD  MAID'S   PARADISE. 

hogsheads  and  clothes-posts.  She  waked 
cold  with  her  efforts  to  plant  the  clothes- 
post  in  the  parlor  carpet,  and  weak  with 
the  attempt  to  set  a  lunch-table  for  sixteen 
upon  the  slippery  surface  of  the  hogshead. 
Her  mind  became  a  frightful  chaos  of  house 
hold  detail. 

Corona  was  not  of  precisely  what  we  call 
a  domestic  temperament,  and  this  experi 
ence  had  some  distressing  effects.  There, 
for  instance,  were  the  pin-cushions.  One 
noon  it  occurred  to  her  that  she  could  not 
have  a  house  without  pin-cushions,  and  from 
that  unhappy  hour  her  tortured  fancy  had 
no  rest.  She  had  never  made  a  pin-cushion 
in  her  life.  It  seemed  to  her  that  it  would 
be  easier  to  make  a  man-of-war.  Corona 
was  determined  to  keep  the  balance  of 
power  economical  and  artistic  in  her  modest 
home.  She  would  not  fill  even  a  cushion 
with  a  "  dear "  stuffing  in  a  cheap  house. 
She  would  not  have  emery  and  silk  with 
matched  boards  and  bare  floors.  She  agi 
tated  herself  over  these  appalling  questions. 


BUILDING.  45 

That  came,  perhaps,  of  being  a  woman, 
she  thought.  Did  men  think  about  pin 
cushions  when  they  built  houses  ?  Six 
rooms  —  six  pin-cushions.  Six  colors  for 
six  pin-cushions  in  six  rooms.  She  tor 
mented  herself  with  calculations.  One  day 
she  said  to  her  friend  :  — 

"  I  '11  tear  my  heart  out  and  put  it  into 
the  spare  room  before  I  will  think  about 
this  any  longer.  The  only  trouble  is  they 
might  find  it  a  little  hard." 

"  It  could  be  used  for  hairpins,"  said  her 
friend,  absently.  "  I  should  flute  it,  too, 
and  put  a  mock  Valenciennes  cover  on." 

As  regarded  the  morals  of  pin-cushions, 
so  with  furniture  and  decoration. 

"  I  '11  have  no  upholstery  too  fine  for  my 
house.  In  a  five-hundred-dollar  house  noth 
ing  should  be  more  than  twenty-five  cents 
a  yard,"  pronounced  Corona,  with  the  con 
sciousness  of  the  highest  principle  and  (what 
is  more  comforting)  of  the  purest  taste  to 
support  her.  "  My  purpose  is  to  make  the 
loveliest  possible  home  out  of  the  least  pos- 


46  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

sible  money ;  and  in  the  history  of  all  pur 
poses,  harmony  is  the  chief  element  of 
power." 

"  Buy  your  furniture  at  a  factory  in  the 
white,"  telegraphed  Tom,  one  day,  from 
California,  in  the  perfectly  disconnected  but 
useful  manner  characteristic  of  Tom  when 
he  gave  advice.  He  had  not  written  to 
Corona  since  he  went  away.  A  serial  story 
could  not  have  so  convinced  her  that  his 
busy  heart  remembered  her.  And  in  the 
moment,  the  worry  and  wear  of  her  some 
what  solitary  plans  dissolved  like  the  fogs 
within  the  sunrise  on  her  own  golden  har 
bor  shore.  She  had  almost  cried,  the  day 
before,  when  she  went  out  alone  (her  first 
walk  since  her  accident),  to  buy  her  own 
silver.  It  had  seemed  to  her  a  very  pa 
thetic  thing  to  do.  Now  it  seemed  rather 
amusing  than  otherwise.  How  Tom  would 
laugh  !  And  Tom  remembered  her ;  always 
had.  She  put  the  foolish,  extravagant  tele 
gram  to  her  lips.  She  said  "  Dear  Tom," 
sitting  alone.  Her  heart  lifted.  She  was 
sure  she  should  be  happy  in  her  house. 


BUILDING.  47 

Besides,  the  silver  was  plated.  It  was  n't 
worth  a  sentiment,  however  cheap. 

"  Let  me  catch  you  at  it  again  !  "  said 
Corona,  apostrophizing  her  wet  lashes  in 
the  glass.  "  I  '11  feed  you  off  of  pewter,  if 
I  do  !  " 

Corona  was  interrupted  by  the  stage  rum 
bling  by  with  the  afternoon  mail.  She 
dried  her  eyes  and  went  over  to  the  office, 
where  she  found  two  letters.  One  was  from 
Susy,  and  ran  :  - 

DEAR  Co,  —  I  hope  you  're  coming  home 
soon.  Baby  has  the  mumps.  There  are  a 
great  many  express  packages  for  you  that 
keep  coming.  It  will  remind  you  how  many 
friends  you  have.  I  have  taken  the  liberty 
—  I  knew  you  would  n't  care  —  I  opened 
them  all.  Sixteen  of  them  are  pin-cushions 
and  fourteen  are  tidies.  One  is  a  patent 
nutmeg-grater. 

Yours,  aff.,  SUE. 

P.  S.  —  The  tidies  are  all  green  and  fif 
teen  of  the  cushions  are  red. 


48  AN   OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

The  other  letter  was  from  the  builder, 
and  read  as  follows  :  — 

FAIRHARBOR. 

DEAR  MADAM,  —  I  should  like  to  have 
you  send  your  furniture  on  at  once.  We 
find  it  won't  go  up  the  stairs.  We  must 
build  it  into  the  house. 

The  weather  has  been  very  poor  and  it 
has  rained  almost  ever  since  we  began  to 
work. 

Yours,  with  respect, 

G.  W.  TIMBERS. 


IV. 

POSSESSION". 

COEONA  recovered  the  use  of  her  ankle  so 
slowly  that,  as  Susy  said,  so  long  as  Baby 
had  the  mumps  it  did  not  seem  wise  to  visit 
Fairharbor  just  at  present.  Corona  sighed 
and  submitted.  She  held  the  baby,  with 

one  foot  on  a  chair,  and  contented  herself  bv 

»/ 

writing  more  or  less  contradictory  orders  to 
her  builder  by  every  mail.  Corona  had  her 
share  of  friends  —  kind,  obliging,  good  peo 
ple  ;  but  there  seemed  to  be  no  one  of  them 
on  whom  she  felt  at  precise  liberty  to  call 
and  say :  "  Run  down  to  Fairharbor  in  the 
month  of  April,  and  put  a  house  in  order  for 
a  lame  woman."  At  the  age  Corona  had 
reached,  a  woman's  friends  are  more  or  less 
unavailable  to  her  for  emergencies.  Most 
of  them  had  neuralgia  or  a  baby,  sick-head- 

4 


50  AN   OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

aches  or  a  husband,  a  public  school  or  a 
bronchial  cough.  If  not  these,  then  a  wid 
ower,  a  minister,  a  Sunday-school,  a  mother, 
a  flirtation,  or  a  Society  for  the  Elevation 
of  the  Human  Race,  to  keep  them  at  home. 
More  and  more,  as  Corona  grew  older,  she 
was  impressed  by  the  great  helplessness  of 
human  friendship. 

"  We  don't  serve  each  other  very  far/' 
whispered  Corona,  mournfully,  to  the  baby. 
"  It  is  little  we  can  do,  after  all.  We  hold 
out  a  hand  now  and  then,  impulsively  or 
guardedly,  as  the  case  may  be ;  we  throng 
on  and  pass ;  we  jostle  and  are  gone ;  we 
reserve  our  real  needs  from  each  other  as  if 
they  were  guilty  secrets.  Who  perceives 
when  his  friend  is  starving  ?  Who  cries 
out :  Give  me  bread  ?  Emerson  was  right 
when  he  said  "  — 

"  I  think  her  left  cheek  has  gone  down  a 
little,"  observed  Susy,  coming  in.  She  anx 
iously  watched  the  baby,  bending  low  over 
it.  The  mother  and  child  regarded  each 
other  so  closely  that  each  perceived  its  own 


POSSESSION.  51 

countenance  daguerreo typed  in  the  other's 
affectionate  eyes. 

"  They  have  a  right  to  their  eye-beams, 
and  all  the  rest  is  Fate,"  finished  Corona, 
aloud. 

She  reproached  herself  that  afternoon. 
What  did  she  want,  then,  that  she  should  sit 
and  challenge  the  sacred  name  of  Friend 
ship,  like  a  beggar  whining  on  a  curbstone  ? 
She,  with  her  fourteen  tidies,  sixteen  pin 
cushions,  and  a  nutmeg-grater  ?  She,  with 
Susy,  and  the  baby  (and  the  mumps),  and 
Tom,  and  a  cottage  in  Fairharbor,  and  her 
own  sweet  way  ? 

66  Is  this  what  they  mean  by  growing  old- 
maidish  ? "  said  Corona,  giving  herself  a 
moral  jerk.  "  Is  it  to  grow  peevish  and 
critical,  and  mope  because  you've  done 
exactly  as  you  wanted  to,  and  must  adjust 
yourself  to  consequences  ?  And  Tom  is 
coming  home  to-morrow.  More  shame  to 
you  !  "  cried  Corona,  with  another  jerk. 

"  Why !  I'll  go  down  and  look  after 
your  cottage,"  said  Tom,  when  he  got 


52  AN  OLD   MAID'S  PARADISE. 

home.  "  I  '11  go  the  day  before,  and  have 
it  all  as  slick  as  a  whistle.  Then  I  '11  stay 
• —  let  me  see  —  I  '11  stay  two  nights  and  a 
day  besides.  Sue  can't;  that's  clear.  I 
can.  I  'd  rather  than  not,  Coro.  I  '11  get 
supper.  Gracious  ! "  added  Tom,  reflect 
ively,  "  you  see  if  I  don't  get  supper." 

It  was  the  seventeenth  of  June  —  a  clear 
day,  brisk  and  fresh,  full  of  color  and  that 
indefinable  elasticity  of  atmosphere  which 
makes  a  light  heart.  On  the  fifteenth,  Mr. 
Timbers  had  sent  the  keys  of  her  house  to 
Corona.  He  was  sorry  not  to  have  the 
work  done  in  May ;  but  the  weather  had 
been  against  them,  he  said,  and  it  had 
rained  ever  since  they  began.  On  the  six 
teenth,  as  good  as  his  word,  Tom  had  gone 
on  to  make  the  cottage  ready  for  Corona ; 
who  followed  with  her  baggage,  her  servant, 
and  her  lame  ankle,  in  the  afternoon  of  the 
following  day. 

The  name  of  the  good  woman  whom 
Corona  carried  with  her  was  Puella  Vir^ 
ginia.  Puella  Virginia  was  a  kind  person, 


POSSESSION.  53 

no  longer  young,  who  had  once  (in  Corona's 
tender  years)  nursed  her  through  the  mea 
sles  and  had  given  her  grapes  when  nobody 
was  looking.  It  would  be  difficult  to  say 
why  these  facts  had  induced  Corona  to  se 
lect  Puella  Virginia  as  the  guide,  philoso 
pher,  and  friend  of  her  future  life ;  but  cer 
tain  it  is  that  they  had  their  influence.  As 
the  time  came  to  leave  Tom's  house,  a  cer 
tain  unreasonable  homesickness  overtook 
her.  Puella  Virginia  seemed  to  her  like 
somebody  she  had  lived  with  before. 

« I  think  I  shall  call  you  Elvir,"  said  Co 
rona,  as  they  drove  from  the  Fairharbor  sta 
tion  through  the  crooked,  crawling  streets 
of  the  old  seaport  town,  out  upon  the  Cape 
and  down  to  the  broad  shore,  where  there 
waited  for  her  the  home  which  she  had 
never  seen.  She  felt  so  overwhelmed  with 
excitement  at  that  moment  it  seemed  to  her 
that  if  she  had  to  say  anything  so  long  as 
Puella  Virginia  she  should  cry. 

"  Just  as  you  please,"  said  Puella  Vir 
ginia,  with  some  dignity. 


54  AN   OLD  MAID'S   PARADISE. 

Ah  !  Well,  there  it  was.  Corona  drew 
her  breath.  Sharp  against  the  familiar  sky, 
the  unfamiliar  outline  cut  the  air.  It  was  a 
little  house.  It  was  a  very  little  house.  It 
had  a  story  and  a  half,  a  hogshead,  and  a 
clothes-post.  It  had  a  piazza,  and  it  was 
brown.  Corona  took  these  facts  in  swiftly 
to  a  vehemently  confused  mind.  The  front 
door  opened  toward  the  water.  It  was  sun 
set  and  full  tide.  The  waves  leaped  high. 
They  came  so  near  that  she  could  have 
sprung  into  them  from  the  piazza  steps. 
They  were  heavily  bronzed  and  gilded  by 
the  color  of  the  sky,  and  brilliant  foam  flew 
about,  for  the  wind  was  rising. 

Puella  Virginia  made  her  way  at  once 
into  the  house,  buffeting  with  the  wind  ;  but 
Corona  stood  still  upon  the  rocks.  She  stood 
in  the  shadow  of  the  little  brown  house. 
Her  eyes  sought  the  emblazoned  waters  and 
the  flushed  sky,  then  filled. 

"  You  are  mine  !  "  she  whispered. 

"Can't  speak  to  a  fellow?"  said  a  voice 
behind  her. 


POSSESSION.  55 

It  was  a  sound  more  familiar  than  the 
Harbor  waves,  dearer  than  the  Harbor  sky. 
Corona  turned  quickly. 

"  I  told  you  I  'd  have  it  ready,"  said  Tom. 
"  I  'm  glad  Puella  has  come  ;  but  everything 
is  in  beautiful  order." 

Tom  stood  in  the  doorway,  in  his  shirt 
sleeves.  The  signs  of  honest  toil  were  on 
his  manly  brow.  His  left  cheek  was  a  little 
smutty  and  he  held  a  gridiron  in  one  hand. 
Something  was  dropping  from  it  on  the 
piazza  in  a  leisurely  manner. 

"It's  only  gravy,"  said  Tom,  calmly.  "I 
tried  a  soup  and  some  scrambled  eggs,  and 
I  baked  a  few  beans ;  but  something  ailed 
them  all,  so  I  just  sent  up  for  a  chop.  I'm 
glad  Puella  has  come  ;  but  everything  is  in 
order.  You  'd  better  come  in.  It  blows  so 
we  can't  keep  anything  open.  There !  Tell 
Puella  to  shut  the  kitchen  door,  or  the  house 
will  be  lifted  off  its  moorings.  I  find  we 
always  have  to  keep  the  kitchen  door  shut. 
A  lot  of  things  blew  out  this  morning.  I 
had  to  hire  a  boy  to  run  after  them.  I 


56  AN  OLD  MAW'S  PARADISE. 

don't  know  what  they  were.  They  seemed 
to  be  little  things,  mostly,  with  ribbons  and 
laces.  Came  in  the  bureau  drawers.  I  guess 
they  were  what  you  call  tidies,  or  night-caps 
perhaps,  or  neck-ties  —  something  of  that 
sort.  Have  to  shut  the  windows,  too ;  it 
blows  so.  Don't  sit  down  there.  I  left 
your  Psyche  there  till  I  could  find  a  place 
for  her.  Oh !  no ;  there  are  a  lot  of  pic 
tures.  The  boy  I  hired  broke  a  few  when 
he  helped  me' unpack;  but  it's  nothing  se 
rious.  Here,  I  '11  find  a  place.  There  was 
a  sofa  here  a  few  minutes  ago.  Oh !  yes, 
it 's  under  the  sheets  and  pillow-cases.  Now, 
there  !  Pretty  tired  ?  Welcome  home,  my 
dear.  Everything  in  beautiful  order.  Wait 
till  I  give  this  toasting-rack  to  Puella.  Ev 
erything  's  in  " — 

Tom  retired  with  the  gridiron,  more  or  lass 
incoherently  ;  and  Corona  looked  about  her. 
She  sat  in  a  little  gray  parlor,  to  which  the 
front  door,  opening  directly,  had  introduced 
her.  Three  unopened  packing-boxes  and  a 
refrigerator  stood  in  the  room.  Sheets  and 


POSSESSION.  57 

table-cloths  lay  plentifully  scattered  upon  the 
furniture  ;  broken  glass  crackled  beneath  her 
feet;  the  uncarpeted  floor  was  black  with  the 
foot-marks  of  carpenters,  masons,  and  paint 
ers;  the  refrigerator  had  been  dragged  in 
without  casters,  and  had  left  a  long,  deep, 
jagged  cut  upon  the  soft  pine  floor  and  thresh 
old.  Confusedly  she  noticed  her  best  Ten 
nyson  lying  under  the  stove  ;  a  pot  of  yel 
low  paint  in  a  corner  stood  upon  a  pile  of 
muslin  curtains.  At  intervals  she  observed 
specimens  of  her  fourteen  green  tidies.  Tom 
seemed  to  have  labored  under  the  impres 
sion  that  they  were  lamp-mats,  and  to  have 
spread  them  upon  tables  and  shelves  till  he 
began  to  get  tired.  Upon  the  otherwise 
empty  book-cases,  she  recognized  more  or 
less  of  her  pincushions,  piled  high  and  look 
ing  particularly  red. 

"  Everything 's  in  order  —  most,"  said 
Tom,  coming  back  and  looking  about  with 
a  tired,  happy  face.  "  Only  a  few  little 
things,  like  these.  There  won't  be  any 
.aiilk  till  morning,  and  the  hogshead  's 


58  AN   OLD   MAID'S   PARADISE. 

ty,  and  something  's  out  of  kilter  with  the 
kitchen  stove.  But  all  the  beds  are  up,  and 
Paella  says  we  can  sleep  here  just  as  well  as 
not." 

"  Sleep  here  !  "  echoed  Corona.  "  Why, 
where  should  we  "  — 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  Puella  Virginia,  knock- 
at  the  door  at  that  moment  and  pushing  in 
without  an  answer.  "  But  now  look  here  ! 
Your  brother 's  done  heaps ;  heaps :  but 
there  's  heaps  left !  Now  look  here  !  There  '&• 
a  woman  out  here  at  the  back  door  says 
she 's  a  neighbor,  and  you  must  be  busy, 
and  won't  you  come  to  tea  with  her  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  yes,"  said  Tom,  reviving.  "  I  've 
had  my  meals  there  so  far.  They  're  excel 
lent.  Her  husband  's  a  fisherman.  They  've 
been  very  kind.  I  call  her  the  Good  Samari 
tan.  "We  might  go  ;  only  there  's  my  chop." 

Tom  looked  disappointed. 

"  Now  look  here  !  "  advised  Paella  Vir 
ginia.  "  If  you  '11  excuse  me,  you  'd  better 
go.  Take  that  there  chop  along.  She  won't 
mind.  Take  it  over  with  you,  and  get  a 


POSSESSION.  59 

quiet,  decent  supper;  and  when  you  get 
there,  stay  there.  I  '11  call  you  by  and  by. 
He  's  all  tuckered  out.  Keep  him  over  there. 
I  don't  want  no  help,  and  there's  supper 
enough  in  the  lunch-bag  for  me." 

"  Well,"  said  Tom,  looking  relieved,  "  per 
haps  we  may  as  well.  I  meant  to  have  your 
supper  ready ;  but,  as  Puella  says,  there  is 
a  good  deal  to  do.  Let  us  go." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Corona.  She  felt  as  if 
she  were  visiting.  It  did  not  occur  to  her 
to  offer  any  suggestions. 

Tom  took  the  chop,  which  Puella  put  into 
the  first  dish  that  came  to  hand  (it  proved 
to  be  a  soap-dish),  and  meekly  led  the  way 
to  the  Good  Samaritan's.  Corona  limped 
after  him,  in  a  dazed  condition.  It  was  late 
before  Puella  Virginia  called  them;  and 
Tom  and  Corona  were  too  tired  to  look 
about,  but  hurried  off  to  bed  in  the  heavy 
shadows  of  the  strange,  disordered  little 
house.  Puella  gave  them  each  a  candle  set 
into  a  bottle. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  said  Corona.  "  I  forgot  can- 
dlesticks." 


60  AN  OLD   MAID'S  PARADISE. 

"Oh,  yes!"  said  Tom.  "I  forgot  the 
kerosene." 

"  There  is  n't  any  bolster  anywhere  round, 
is  there  ?  "  called  Tom  from  his  room,  through 
the  thin  matched-board  wall,  which  was  blue 
on  Corona's  side  and  green  on  his. 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Corona.     "I  forgot  bolsters." 

Just  as  Corona  was  sinking  into  her  first 
sweet  sleep  there  came  a  deprecatory  wail 
from  the  green  side  of  the  wall. 

"  Oh  !  I  say,  Co  !  Sorry  to  trouble  you  ; 
but  you  have  n't  got  such  a  thing  as  soap 
or  towels  in  the  house,  have  you  ?  " 

66  No,"  said  Corona.  "  I  forgot  the  soap 
and  the  towels." 

In  the  middle  of  the  night  there  was  a 
crash.  It  was  a  terrible  crash.  Corona, 
terrified,  sprang  from  her  bed.  Puella  Vir 
ginia  ran  around  in  her  night-dress.  Even 
in  her  terror  Corona  found  this  a  memora 
ble  sight. 

"  It 's  only  me ! "  cried  Tom,  with  un- 
grammatical  reassurance.  "  Something  's 
happened  to  this  cheap  bed.  I  believe 


POSSESSION.  61 

I  'in  on  the  floor.  I  don't  know  where  the 
bed  is." 

Corona  hurried  to  his  rescue.  True 
enough.  Her  cheap  furniture,  "  bought  in 
the  white/'  had  surrendered  to  Tom's  hon 
est  and  sufficient  bulk  ;  and  in  a  debris  of 
slats  and  springs  the  big  fellow  lay  inglori 
ous.  The  head-board  of  the  new  bed  leaned 
in  a  sickly  manner  against  the  sea-green 
wall,  while  the  foot-board  sought  the  sup 
port  of  the  wash-stand,  on  which  a  dusty 
pitcher  stood  unfilled  and  inhospitable.  It 
was  a  most  homesick  and  depressing  sight. 

"  Oh ! "  said  Tom,  after  the  two  had  re 
garded  it  in  silence  for  some  portentous  mo 
ments,  "  I  remember.  I  forgot  the  clamps !  " 

And  thus  the  evening  and  the  morning 
were  the  first  day  of  Corona's  domestic  life. 
Truth  compels  me  to  state  that  it  was  not 
until  the  following  sunset  that  any  measure 
of  calm  settled  upon  that  chaotic  household. 
Corona  had  expected  to  feel  more  or  less  of 
the  impressiveness  of  the  experience  which 
can  come  but  once  to  any  human  creature 


62  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

—  the  first  possession  of  the  first  four  walls 
which  we  call  our  own.  On  the  contrary, 
she  found  her  mind  as  devoid  of  sentiment 
as  a  last  year's  grocer's  bill.  But  suddenly, 
as  the  night  drew  down,  a  swift  and  almost 
sacred  change  fell  upon  her,  like  the  change 
of  metre  in  the  Psalms  of  David.  When  she 
went  to  dress  for  tea  —  getting  into  some 
thing  fresh  and  soft,  with  lace  and  color  — 
and  heard  for  the  first  time  in  her  own  house 
her  own  supper-bell  vigorously  chiming  in 
Puella  Virginia's  warm  hands,  her  heart 
leaped ;  and  then  it  seemed  to  kneel.  She 
stole  gently  dowrn.  The  dining-room  was 
tiny,  neat,  and  bright.  The  table  was  set, 
and  the  late  light  from  the  west  fell  in  upon 
the  plated  —  No,  those  were  her  mother's 
spoons.  Her  lip  quivered.  She  said  :  — 

"  You  surprised  me,  Tom."  But  she  could 
not  say  anything  more. 

There  was  a  note  there  from  Susy,  too, 
with  Chinese  teacups.  There  were  several 
things  on  the  table  she  had  not  seen  before. 

"  People  kept  sending  them/'  said  Tom, 
kindly. 


POSSESSION.  63 

And  the  Good  Samaritan  made  and  sent 
the  smoking  rolls.  She  thought  "  they  'd 
be  too  beat  out  to  cook." 

Corona  and  Tom  sat  down.  Tom  did  not 
usually  "  ask  grace  "  at  table.  He  had  re 
served  opinions  about  the  custom,  though 
now  and  then,  Corona  remembered,  he  had 
conformed  to  it;  but  never,  she  was  sure, 
when  his  thoughts  were  light.  To-night 
Tom  hesitated  a  moment.  Then  he  bowed 
his  head  and  said  :  — 

"  0  Thou  who  dwellest  in  so  many  homes, 
possess  thyself  of  this.  Thou  who  settest 
the  solitary  in  families,  bless  the  life  which 
is  sheltered  here.  Grant  that  trust  and 
peace  and  comfort  may  abide  within ;  and 
that  love  and  light  and  usefulness  may  go 
from  out  this  house  forever." 

"  Amen  !  "  said  heavily  an  unexpected 
voice.  It  was  Puella  Virginia,  standing  in 
the  kitchen  doorway,  with  waffles. 


V. 

INSIDE  AND  OUT. — ALONE. 

AND  now  Tom  was  gone.  "  Give  me  your 
blessing  and  a  sandwich/'  he  had  said;  "  but 
don't  get  up,  nor  a  breakfast."  As  a  mat 
ter  of  course,  therefore,  Puella  Virginia's 
.menu  was  more  than  usually  elaborate  ;  and 
Corona  rose  an  hour  too  soon,  to  pick  wild 
roses  for  Susy.  Tom  held  out  patient  hands 
for  them,  swore  not  at  all  when  the  thorns 
got  under  his  gloves,  kissed  Corona  twice, 
said  he  'd  come  again  and  bring  the  baby, 
and  indeed  he  was  gone.  The  Fairharbor 
omnibus,  very  impatient  and  very  yellow, 
trundled  off  with  him  laboriously.  As  he 
went  over  the  hill,  he  looked  back,  and  saw 
Corona  standing  on  the  great  bowlder  to 
wave  her  hand.  Her  figure  stood  higher 
than  the  little  brown  house.  She  wore  blue, 


INSIDE  AND   OUT.  — ALONE.  65 

and  seemed  cut  like  a  solitary  silhouette 
against  the  paler  sky. 

She  went  back  into  the  house  slowly.  She 
and  Puella  Virginia  were  quite  alone.  Co 
rona  wandered  restlessly  about  the  still  un 
ordered  rooms.  For  half  an  hour  she  won 
dered  how  she  should  like  living  in  her 
own  house.  The  sun  was  fresh,  the  sea  was 
fair,  the  air  was  sweet,  the  wild  roses  looked 
in,  the  tide  went  out  peacefully.  Puella 
from  the  kitchen  reminded  her  that  there 
was  enough  to  do  in  this  house  to  take  two 
folks  a  month.  But  Tom  was  gone. 

"  I'll  go  to  walk,"  said  Corona,  decidedly, 
to  herself.  "I'm  going  to  walk,  Pu — El- 
vir,"  she  said  to  Puella,  faintly. 

Up  to  this  time  she  had  felt  as  if  she  were 
visiting  Tom.  Now  she  felt  as  if  she  were 
boarding  with  Puella.  She  almost  appealed 
to  her  for  permission  to  carry  out  a  prefer 
ence. 

"  There  hain't  a  stitch  took  nor  a  chair 
dusted,"  said  Puella,  with  dissatisfaction. 
"Ye  put  up  all  the  curtains  and  pictures 


66  AN  OLD  MAID'S   PARADISE. 

before  I  'd  scrubbed  a  floor.  Ye  tended  to 
them  statoos  and  books ;  but  look  at  yer 
parlor  windows ! " 

"  Puella  Vir —  Elvir,"  said  Corona,  gently, 
"  I  don't  know  how  to  keep  house,  I  'rn 
afraid.  But  you  will  do  it  for  me,  I  am  sure." 

"  Will  ye  trust  me  ?  "  asked  Puella,  after 
some  thought. 

"  If  I  did  n't  trust  you  I  should  not  have 
invited  you  to  live  with  me,"  paid  Corona, 
gently  still.  "  We  shall  be  a  long  while  to 
gether,  Puella;  and  often  and  much  alone. 
I  hope  that  we  shall  make  each  other  happy 
and  become  true  friends." 

Puella  Virginia  was  silent.  No  lady  had 
ever  spoken  to  her  like  that.  She  watched 
Corona  as  she  paced  the  beach  in  the  bright 
morning  ;  her  refined,  slender  figure  bending 
to  the  light  breeze  from  the  east.  Puella 
Virginia  was  a  big  woman. 

"  Well,  yes,"  she  said,  after  some  thought, 
speaking  aloud.  "  I  '11  make  her  happy,  if 
I  can.  Bless  her,  yes  !  " 

Corona  walked  a  long  time.     The  beach. 


INSIDE  AND   OUT.— ALONE.  67 

left  by  the  departed  tide,  was  a  web  of  soft 
shades.  She  was  captured  in  it.  Gray, 
pearl,  silver,  mauve,  sepia,  olive  green,  and 
dull  wThite  tints  betokened  sand  and  weedsv 
perhaps ;  but  to  her  eye  they  took  the  fig 
ure  of  a  huge  palette.  The  semicircle  of 
the  shore  curved,  and  she  stood  within  it 
musing  and  reluctant,  like  the  artist's  hand 
before  the  virgin  color. 

Toward  noon  the  sky  became  overcast 
with  soft,  warm  clouds.  They  had  gray 
hearts.  Faint  forms  of  blue  showed  through, 
evanescent.  The  shore  wore  veils  of  blue- 
green  haze.  The  water,  which  had  been 
blue  and  brilliant  at  an  earlier  hour,  grew 
gray ;  but  seemed  warmer  for  this  change  of 
countenance.  Eays  of  light  fell  across  the 
harbor ;  from  where,  one  knew  not.  They 
were  long,  narrow,  fine,  and  bright.  As  she 
watched  them,  they  throbbed ;  they  seemed 
like  the  glittering,  scaly  backs  of  unknown 
sea  creatures.  There  were  few  vessels  upon 
the  harbor.  These  moved  in  and  out  on 
mysterious  and  idle  errands,  through  a  silver 


68  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

atmosphere.  Little  dories  trailed  after  them. 
On  the  rocks  were  gentle  breakers;  the 
foam  was  all  at  play.  When  Corona  came 
into  the  house,  the  light  lay  thin,  warm,  and 
still  across  the  parlor  floor. 

She  told  Puella  Virginia  that  she  thought 
she  would  get  a  bath ;  and  Puella,  without 
protest,  brought  her  bathing-dress.  Corona 
dreamily  wandered  down  to  a  little  cove 
where  the  sand  was  warm  and  the  cliffs  were 
high,  and  gave  greeting  to  the  ocean  with 
the  passion  which  only  his  lovers  under 
stand.  She  flung  herself  under  the  green 
fire  of  the  "  third  wave,"  and  said :  "  I  am 
alive  !  alive  !  " 

Corona  felt  exhilarated  all  that  day. 
She  had  a  good  appetite  and  large  aspira 
tions.  She  took  Tom's  seat  at  table,  and 
looked  through  open  doors  upon  the  silver 
sea.  She  ate  an  extra  piece  of  cake  for  des 
sert,  out  of  sheer  sense  of  life.  Puella  Vir 
ginia  hung  up  the  curtains  alone.  Corona 
could  not  work.  The  world  was  too  fair — 
or  the  cake  too  full  of  saleratus.  At  inter- 


INSIDE  AND   OUT.— ALONE.  69 

vals  she  said  to  Puella :  "  I  must  remember 
to  call  you  Elvir."  She  had  never  once  re 
membered  it. 

It  will  be  of  interest,  perhaps,  to  the 
reader  who  has  followed  Corona's  unevent 
ful  history,  to  be  introduced  more  distinctly 
to  the  home  which  five  hundred  dollars  and 
an  old  maid  had  founded.  The  house,  as  I 

m 

have  said,  was  brown ;  the  blinds  and  trim 
mings  were  of  a  darker  shade  than  the  walls 
of  narrow  matched  boards.  The  cottage 
contained  five  rooms  and  a  kitchen.  The 
body  of  this  imposing  building  stood  twenty 
feet  square  upon  the  ground.  The  kitchen 
measured  nine  feet  by  eight,  and  there  was 
a  wood-shed,  three  feet  wide,  in  which  Pu 
ella  managed  to  pile  the  wood,  and  various 
domestic  mysteries  into  which  Corona  felt 
no  desire  to  penetrate.  There  were  a  par 
lor,  a  dining-room,  a  guest-room,  and  two 
rooms  left  for  "  the  family."  There  were 
two  closets,  a  coal-bin,  and  a  loft.  The 
house  stood  on  what,  for  want  of  a  scientific 
term,  Corona  called  piers;  and  Puella  Vir- 


70  AN   OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

ginia  found  infinite  capabilities  in  what 
might,  could,  would,  or  should  have  been 
the  cellar,  if  this  valuable  space  had  been 
closed  in.  The  two  women  preferred  it  as 
it  was.  Corona  could  see  the  clover  grow 
ing.  What  so  delightful  as  to  see  clover 
growing  beneath  one's  house  !  And  Puella 
Virginia  said  it  would  keep  out  rats.  But 
the  boy  whom  Tom  hired  to  help  unpack  — 
he  was  the  Good  Samaritan's  boy,  and  his 
name  was  Zerubbabel  —  Zerubbabel  ob 
jected.  He  said  he  did  n't  like  to  see  a 
house  on  stilts. 

Corona's  house  had  no  plaster,  no  paper 
ing,  and  no  carpets.  Her  parlor,  which,  as 
I  have  said,  opened  directly  upon  the  water, 
was  painted  gray ;  the  walls  were  of  the 
paler  color  in  a  gull's  wing ;  the  ceiling  had 
the  tint  of  dulled  pearls ;  the  floor  was  rock 
gray  (a  border  of  black  ran  around  this 
floor) ;  the  beams  and  rafters,  left  visible  by 
the  absence  of  plastering,  were  touched  with 
what  is  known  to  artists  as  neutral  tint. 
The  effects  were  all  simply  combined,  and 


INSIDE   AND   OUT.  — ALONE.  71 

their  factors  to  be  found  without  difficulty 
upon  the  palette  of  the  Fairharbor  house 
and  sign  painter.  Several  felt  mats  were 
on  the  floor.  They  were  of  that  individual 
and  indescribable  color  for  which  the  Yan 
kee  mind  has  no  better  name  than  cherry. 
They  were  fringed  with  gray.  The  dado- 
band  was  formed  of  wood-cuts.  They  were 
of  the  same  shape  and  size  and  fitted  nicely. 
They  were  all  landscapes.  Paella  called 
them  "  views."  They  were  bordered  by  a 
fine  painted  line  of  black.  The  effect  of 
them  was  soft  and  rich.  Corona  had  been 
some  years  in  collecting  them  from  Ameri 
can  and  English  magazines.  A  frieze  of  car 
dinal  flowers  finished  the  top  of  the  room. 
These  were  cut  from  chromos  bought  by 
the  wholesale  at  an  auction.  They  bore  the 
burning  carmine  tint,  which  was  the  light 
of  the  room,  and  at  that  height  had  an  in 
credible  air  of  refinement.  The  curtains  in 
this  room  were  cotton  flannel,  of  a  silver 
shade,  bordered  and  tied  with  cherry.  The 
cheap  and  comfortable  lounges  which  Mr. 


72  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

Timbers  had  made  were  upholstered  also 
in  gray  cotton  flannel.  They  had  bright 
pillows.  A  deck-chair  stood  at  the  eastern 
window,  with  cherry  ribbons.  Corona's 
books,  statuettes,  and  pictures  were  abun 
dant  in  this  room.  There  was  a  tiny  open 
stove.  The  rocking-chair  was  old  and  gen 
erous;  the  table-cloth  was  one  of  Susy's, 
that  happened  to  be  kind  in  color ;  and  the 
room  had  the  air  of  having  been  lived  in  a 
long  time. 

In  the  dining-room  there  was  no  paint. 
The  soft  wood  walls  and  floor  and  ceiling 
were  oiled  without  color,  and  the  fine  char 
acteristic  yellow  tints  of  the  pine  looked 
through.  The  little  room  absorbed  much 
light.  It  was  curtained  with  English  silesia, 
of  a  golden  brown.  Susy  had  worked  oak- 
leaves  upon  the  curtains.  A  shelf  to  hold 
Corona's  modest  store  of  bric-a-brac  (con 
sisting  at  this  stage  in  her  history  of  the 
tea-urn,  one  caddy,  some  India  shells,  and 
the  collar-bone  of  a  deformed  haddock  that 
Zerubbabel  gave  her)  was  finished  with  hem- 


INSIDE  AND   OUT.— ALONE.  73 

lock  bark.  The  rafters  in  the  ceiling  of  this 
room  were  covered  with  the  thin  lichens 
that  grow  on  stones  and  the  trunks  of  trees. 
Gold-paper  behind  them  gave  out  flecks  like 
sunlight  in  a  dense  place. 

Puella  Virginia's  room  was  as  yet  unfin 
ished.  Corona  had  thought  it  courtesy  to 
wait  and  consult  the  taste  of  its  occupant. 

Corona's  room  was  blue,  shading  swiftly 
from  the  floor  to  the  ceiling,  which  was  very 
pale.  Butterflies  were  on  this  ceiling,  cut 
from  natural  history  specimen  cards.  They 
were  all  of  pale  colors  —  white  and  gold  or 
rose.  The  windows  were  draped  with  two 
old-fashioned  dresses  that  Corona  and  Susy 
had  once  alike.  They  were  blue-and-white 
muslin,  and  had  grown  soft  with  many 
washings. 

The  guest  room  was  green  —  floor,  walls, 
furniture.  Corona  hired  a  man  for  a  day's 
wages  to  paint  the  furniture,  while  she 
watched  and  directed  him.  The  walls  she 
hung  abundantly  with  ferns,  pressed  and  se 
curely  fastened  with  gum  tragacanth.  There 


74  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

was  much  of  the  creeping  fern.  The  cur 
tains  were  of  cheap  white  muslin,  and  were 
not  tied.  The  room  looked  like  a  bower. 

There  was  not,  let  me  add,  a  stork,  a  bul 
rush,  a  Japanese  fan,  nor  a  grandmother's 
tea-cup  in  the  house.  I  am  describing,  of 
course,  the  appearance  of  Corona's  cottage 
as  it  existed  in  her  imagination  until  the 
end  of  several  weeks'  occupancy  and  oppor 
tunity.  In  the  political  economy  of  house 
hold  art  decoration  the  slightest  possible 
sum  of  money  may  be  made  to  accomplish 
the  largest  conceivable  results ;  but  the  one 
condition  of  which  the  most  lavish  expen 
diture  is  necessary  is  time.  Possibly  one 
might  add  to  this  a  little  talent.  In  place 
of  the  latter,  a  fair  allowance  of  taste.  In 
lieu  of  either,  the  Lamp  of  Obedience  will 
light  the  way.  A  hod-carrier  would  be  well- 
nigh  inexcusable  in  these  days  for  having 
an  ugly  home. 

This  day  of  which  I  spoke  —  the  first  af 
ter  Tom's  departure  —  clouded  a  little  soon 
after  dinner.  The  afternoon  set  in  rather 


INSIDE  AND    OUT.  — ALONE.  7^ 

drearily.  It  sprinkled  on  the  windows, 
which  Puella  Virginia  had  just  washed. 
Corona  could  not  walk  upon  the  beach.  She 
wandered  out  into  the  kitchen.  The  kitchen 
was  stained  a  deep  walnut  color,  with  oil 
and  umber ;  the  kitchen  tables  were  shel 
laced.  Puella  was  scouring  tin.  Every 
thing  looked  very  clean. 

"You  shall  have  a  rocking-chair/'  said 
Corona;  anxious  to  make  the  partner  of 
her  domestic  joys  and  sorrows  as  happy  as 
possible. 

Puella  Virginia  thanked  her,  but  said  it 
would  kick  her  shins. 

"  How  would  you  like  lambrequins,  and  a 
little  seat  in  the  window-sill?"  asked  Co 
rona.  "  There  are  a  plenty  of  bright  dark 
prints  to  be  had  for  six  cents  a  yard.  We 
can  make  the  kitchen  very  pretty." 

"  They  'd  grease,"  said  Puella,  laconically. 

"  Perhaps  so,"  said  Corona,  looking  disap 
pointed.  She  felt  uncomfortable  with  her 
rugs  and  her  ribbons  and  her  old  blue  mus 
lin  dresses,  while  Puella's  floors  and  walls 


76  AN    OLD   MAID'S  PARADISE. 

were  bare.  Doubtless  Corona  will  be  much 
derided  for  this  hyper-aesthesia  of  the  sym 
pathies.  But  she  could  not  help  it ;  it  was 
her  "  way."  She  had  always  found  it  hard 
to  understand  the  "  servants'  line  "  in  kindly, 
comfortable,  Christian  homes,  and  was  apt 
to  transgress  upon  it.  Besides,  in  a  house 
twenty  feet  square  the  distance  between  the 
parlor  and  the  kitchen  is  so  particularly 
small ! 

"  You  're  very  kind,"  said  Puella,  gra 
ciously  ;  "  but  it  seems  to  me,  if  you  're  go 
ing  to  do  that  kind  of  thing,  my  room  's  the 
place  for  it." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Corona.  "  What  color 
shall  we  get  for  your  room,  Puelvir  ?  I  will 
buy  the  material  to-morrow ;  but  you  shall 
select  it.  You  shall  have  exactly  what  you 
want." 

"  Well,"  said  Puella,  after  a  long  and 
thoughtful  pause,  "  if  I  can  have  exactly 
what  I  want"  — 

"  Yes,"  interrupted  Corona,  eagerly. 
"  Exactly !  " 


INSIDE  AND   OUT.  — ALONE.  77 

"Then,"  said  Puella,  with  a  kindling 
countenance,  "  I  should  like  them  curtains 
to  be  maroon  and  indigo." 

"  Maroon  and  mdigo  !  "  gasped  Corona. 

"  Two  to  each  window/'  said  Puella, 
proudly.  "  I  had  a  cousin  once  who  got 
married  and  had  some.  You  never  saw  any 
thing  like  the  way  the  maroon  fell  down 
onto  the  indigo.  It  was  so  rich  !  I  always 
said,  if  I  ever  got  married,  I  'd  have  maroon 
and  indigo  curtains.  It  ain't  exactly  get 
ting  married,  living  out  with  you,"  added 
Puella,  reflectively ;  "  but  it 's  enough  sight 
easier  work,  'n  better  wages.  And,  if  I  have 
them  curtains,  I  shan't  never  regret  that  I 
did  n't  take  Pete  Baily.  Only  thing  made 
me  hesitate  about  Pete  was  when  I  thought 
about  my  cousin's  curtains.  Now  I  shall 
have  the  curtains,  without  the  plague  o' 
Pete.  I  'm  much  obliged  to  you,  Miss  Co 
rona  ;  very  much,  indeed.  I  '11  hem  'em 
myself." 

Corona  turned  away.  She  was  speechless 
with  mingled  emotions.  Not  for  her  new 


78  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

little  dainty  home  and  all  the  kingdom  and 
glory  thereof  would  she  have  disappointed 
Puella  Virginia  now. 

But  —  maroon  and  indigo  ! 

The  storm  set  in  heavily  toward  night. 
The  sea  tossed  and  the  fog  settled.  Sails 
seen  through  silver  were  blotted  out.  The 
palette  of  the  beach  was  blurred.  Birds 
flew  low  and  whistled  restlessly.  The  new 
house  began  to  leak.  Puella  went  about 
very  much  tucked  up  as  to  her  skirts,  and 
mopped  vigorously  beneath  the  delicate  cur 
tains.  Idlers  fled  from  the  rocks.  Zerubba- 
bel  —  whom,  by  the  way,  let  me  hasten  to 
say,  passed  by  the  pet  name  of  Zero  in  the 
bosom  of  his  family  —  Zero  came  over  with 
the  afternoon  mail ;  but  no  other  sign  of  life 
attacked  the  cottage.  The  fog-bell  began 
to  toll. 

Corona  went  out  and  stood  in  the  back 
doorway  and  peered  into  the  summer  rain. 
She  heard  the  water  dripping  into  her  empty 
and  warping  hogshead,  and  for  the  first 


INSIDE  AND   OUT.  — ALONE.  79 

time  completely  realized  that  she  was  in  her 
own  home ;  that  she  owned  the  floor  she 
trod  on,  the  walls  that  sheltered  her,  the 
roof  that  leaked  on  her,  the  rain  that  fell 
for  her,  and  the  peach-basket  into  which 
Puella  was  putting  little  sticks  to  build  a  lit 
tle  fire  in  her  little  parlor  grate,  by  which 
she  should  sit  with  slippered  feet  alone  — • 

"  What 's  that?  "  cried  Puella  Virginia. 

It  was  the  expressman,  driving  furiously 
through  the  wet. 


VI. 

MATTHEW   ARNOLD. 

"  HE  drives/'  said  Puella,  "  as  if  he  was 
trying  to  get  away  from  scarlet  fever,  or  a 
girl  he  did  n't  like." 

"  He  does  seem  in  a  hurry,"  observed  Co 
rona.  The  two  women  watched  him  eagerly. 
It  was  the  first  time  the  expressman  had 
called  unexpectedly  at  the  cottage.  Corona 
felt  that  it  was  an  event.  Oddly,  too,  she 
remembered  at  the  moment  how  she  had 
often  looked  with  a  certain  scorn  upon  se 
cluded  people,  who  found  events  in  little 
things.  Her  scorn  had  turned  to  sympathy. 
One  of  those  transformations  of  the  im 
agination  which  experience  is  continually 
thrusting  upon  us,  and  which  increase  in 
number  and  intensify  in  character  as  we 
pass  our  first  youth,  forever  from  that  time 


MATTHEW  ARNOLD.  81 

idealized  to  Corona  the  arrival  of  express 
packages  at  lonely  thresholds  on  rainy  days. 

The  expressman  jumped  down,  splashing 
in  the  mud-puddle  —  her  own  mud-puddle, 
by  her  own  back  doorstep.  Something 
jumped  after  him,  splashing  too. 

"  It 's  a  dog  !  "  cried  Puella  Virginia. 

"  Gracious  Jiminy  !  "  said  the  express 
man.  "I  should  think  it  was  a  dog.  If 
you  'd  had  the  bringing  of  him  from  Boston, 
you  'd  think  it  was  a  dog  !  " 

"  Why,  what  did  he  do  ?  "  asked  Puella. 

"  Do  !  "  cried  the  expressman.  "  I  '11  leave 
you  to  find  out  what  he  did.  I  '11  leavG 
you  to  find  out  what  he  did  n't  do.  Never 
was  so  'tarnal  glad  to  git  rid  of  a  nexpresis. 
package  in  my  life.  He  hain't  run  away 
but  six  times  ;  no  he  hain't.  Nor  he  hain't 
bit  me  but  three  times ;  has  he  ?  Besides, 
the  blasted  critter  eat  his  direction  off.  For 
tunate  I  had  it  here,  ma'am,  with  the  letter 
explainin'." 

"  Explaining  what?"  cried  Corona,  feel- 

6 


82  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

ing  very  much  confused  and  not  a  little  em 
barrassed. 

"  Explainin'  the  dog  !  "  cried  the  express 
man.  "There!  look  at  that.  That's  the 
way  he 's  waltzed  at  me  ever  since  we 
started." 

The  dog  (who  was  a  small,  alert  tan  ter 
rier)  began,  at  this,  to  perform  a  series  of 
gyrations  about  the  expressman,  who  held 
him  by  a  rope.  Gradually  both  man  and 
puppy  became  twisted  into  a  closer  and 
tighter  and  more  hopeless  embrace,  till  the 
dog  came,  for  simple  want  of  tether,  breath 
less  to  a  halt  between  the  expressman's  legs. 

"  There,  there  !  "  said  Puella  Virginia,  in 
the  aggravating  tone  women  use  to  impa 
tient  men  —  the  tone  of  a  mother  to  a  re 
fractory  boy.  "  Don't  get  excited.  1 11 
help  ye." 

She  went  out  into  the  rain  and  untied  the 
dog  and  brought  him  into  the  kitchen.  The 
expressman  took  immediate  advantage  of 
his  liberty  and  splashed  away  as  he  had 
come. 


MATTHEW  ARNOLD.  83 

Meanwhile  Corona  was  reading  the  letter, 
which  was  from  Tom,  and  ran  : 

DEAR  Co,  —  This  will  introduce  to  you  a 
friend  of  mine,  well-born,  well-bred,  amia 
ble  and  unobtrusive,  who  has  kindly  con 
sented  to  relieve  for  the  summer  the  anxiety 
which  Susy  feels  regarding  your  unprotected 
situation  in  that  solitary  place.  Confess 
myself  I  would  prefer  not  to  leave  you  there 
without  masculine  society,  and  hope  you 
may  find  in  this  gentleman  all  that  the  heart 
of  Defenseless  Woman  can  wish. 

Yours,  TOM. 

P.  S.  —  His  name  is  Matthew  Arnold. 

Corona  laid  down  the  letter  and  looked  at 
the  dog.  If  Tom  had  sent  a  baby,  she  would 
not  have  been  more  perplexed.  She  took 
him  gingerly  by  the  long  rope.  Matthew 
Arnold  proceeded  at  once  to  shorten  his 
tether,  doing  himself  up  with  a  series  of 
jerks  against  her  feet,  and  producing  in 
Corona  rather  an  acute  sense  of  sympathy 
with  the  expressman  than  any  warming  of 


84  AN  OLD  MAJD'S  PARADISE. 

the  affections  toward  himself.  But  then  he 
came  from  Tom.  So  she  told  Puelvir  to 
give  the  dog  his  supper  and  —  whatever 
dogs  wanted ;  and  in  a  vague  and  abstract 
manner  retired  from  the  Dog  Problem  to 
the  little  gray  parlor.  Pretty  soon  she  came 
out  into  the  kitchen  again,  and  the  follow 
ing  conversation  took  place. 

"  How  is  Matthew  Arnold,  Puella  ?  " 

"  Ma'am  ? " 

"  How  is  the  dog  ?     Is  he  happy  ?  " 

"  He  's  crazy  to  get  back  where  he  came 
from,  if  ye  call  that  bein'  happy.  Yes." 

"  Is  he  a  good  watch-dog,  do  you  think, 
Puelvir  ?  " 

"  Think  likely.  They  most  generally  is, 
'nless  they  sleep  too  heavy." 

"  Oh  !  Does  Matthew  Arnold  sleep  heav 
ily,  Puella?" 

"  Hain't  slept  no  ways  yet.  Ben  wrig 
gling  on  the  rope  round  the  table-leg  ever 
sence  he  come.  I  tripped  over  him  three 
times,  and  broke  a  platter.  He  keeps  run- 
nin'  between  my  feet." 


MATTHEW  ARNOLD.  85 

"  Puelvir,  I  had  not  thought  much  about 
it  before  the  dog  came ;  but  this  is  the  first 
night  we  've  been  alone  down  here.  Do 


you  mind  it  ?  Are  you  at  all  afraid,  Puel 
vir  ?  " 

"  Afraid  !     Well !     Be  you  ?  " 

"Oh!  no.  I'm  not  afraid.  Indeed,  I 
never  thought  of  it  before.  But  I  didn't 
know  how  you  felt.  You  don't  think  we  'd 
better  have  a  man  come  in,  do  you,  till  we 
get  used  to  it  ?  " 

"A —  MAN!  !  !"  Puella  dropped  her 
toasting-rack  and  regarded  her  mistress 
with  a  keen  and  scornful  eye.  "  What 
under  the  canopy  —  two  full-grown  women 
—  should  want  of  a  man  "  —  But  perhaps 
Puella  discerned  some  genuine  uneasiness  in 
Corona's  face.  She  replied  more  gently, 
"  Do  as  ye  like.  I  can  stand  him,  if  you 
can." 

"We  might  get  Zero,"  said  Corona,  a 
trifle  ashamed  of  herself  for  the  suggestion ; 
but  impelled  to  it  by  one  of  those  unreason 
able  gusts  of  feeling  which  only  tired  women 


86  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

know.  "  We  might  have  Zero.  He 's  only 
a  boy."  As  if  this  halved  the  humiliation. 

"  Very  well,"  said  Puella.  "  I  '11  get  into 
my  rubber  Coots  and  go  after  him.  Don't 
you  fret." 

Corona  returned  to  the  parlor.  The  night 
came  on  swiftly.  It  grew  very  dark.  Never 
on  shore  had  she  seen  such  darkness.  Out 
side  of  her  door  there  seemed  to  be  a  chasm 
of  solid  black ;  the  outlines  of  sky  and  sea 
and  rock  were  lost.  One  step  off  from  the 
little  piazza  she  dared  not  take ;  it  was  like 
walking  over  the  Great  Gulf  Fixed. 

Yet  the  night  was  pierced  merrily  by  the 
headlights  of  a  hundred  vessels  anchored  in 
the  bay ;  and  the  air  was  full  of  sweet 
power,  as  if  blown  a  long  distance  over  per 
fumed  lands.  The  rain,  too,  grew  scanty, 
and  the  soul  of  summer  spoke  out  of  the 
mystery  of  the  dark. 

She  flung  herself  into  the  hammock  on 
the  piazza,  with  her  heavy  scarlet  shawl 
about  her.  Faint  light  from  the  parlor  fell 
through ;  she  made  a  spot  of  color  like  a 


MATTHEW  ARNOLD.  87 

dying  watch-fire,  and  knew  that  she  made 
it,  and  felt  it  idly. 

"  Where  will  the  critter  sleep  ? "  asked 
Puelvir,  suddenly  appearing,  with  Matthew 
Arnold. 

"Who?  Oh!  the  dog.  Well  — can't  he 
sleep  in  your  room,  Puelvir  ?  " 

"  He  could"  replied  Puella,  in  a  tone  of 
deep  significance. 

"  He  seems  so  little  to  sleep  alone,"  said 
Corona,  sympathetically.  "  Whee  —  ee,  sir  ! 
Come  here,  good  fellow,  come."  She  made 
her  first  advances  toward  the  dog  timidly. 
Matthew  repelled  them  with  sullen  dignity. 

"  Where  '11  the  other  one  sleep  ?  "  asked 
Puelvir. 

"  Oh  !  Zero.  I  had  n't  thought.  Has  he 
come  ?  Let  me  see !  I  suppose  he  must 
sleep  in  the  spare  room.  That  hadn't  oc 
curred  to  me.  Well,  it  can't  be  helped  to- 
night.  Make  up  the  bed  with  the  colored 
blankets,  Puelvir." 

"Well,  I  did,"  said  Puella.  "I  didn't 
suppose  there  was  n't  nothin'  else  to  be  done. 


88  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

He  's  been  abed  and  asleep  this  hour.  He- 
sleeps  like  the  Last  Trumpet,"  added  Puella, 
scornfully.  "  He 's  deef  too." 

"  The  dog  might  sleep  with  him/'  sug 
gested  Corona,  ignoring  these  insinuations. 
"  But  we  must  be  sure  and  make  him  un 
derstand  that  he  is  n't  to  let  him  loose  in 
the  morning." 

"  I  give  him  a  bath,"  said  Puella. 

"  Gave  —  Oh  !  you  gave  the  dog  a  bath. 
Very  good,  Puelvir.  Now  the  next  thing  is 
to  wake  Zero.  I  hardly  like  to  go  into  his 
room.  What  shall  we  do  ?  " 

The  two  women  stood  uncertain  upon  the 
stairs.  Corona  held  the  light,  and  Puella 
held  the  dog.  They  consulted  in  whispers, 
forgetting  that  Zero  was  deaf. 

"  I  s'pose  I  must  do  it,"  said  Puella,  re 
luctantly.  "  But  this  comes  of  having  men- 
folks  in  a  woman's  house." 

Corona  acknowledged  the  deserved  re 
buke  in  meek  silence  ;  and  Puella  went  into 
Zero's  room,  holding  Matthew  Arnold  (who 
rebelled  vigorously)  by  the  back  of  the 


MATTHEW  ARNOLD.  89 

neck.  Corona  modestly  sat  down  with  the 
lamp  upon  the  stairs  outside  of  Zero's  door, 
and  listened  to  the  following  dialogue :  — 

"  Zero  !  "     Silence. 

"Zero!" 

"Ze-ro-o-o!  Zero!  Zero!  Zero!  ZERO! 
Land  !  He  's  deefer  'n  the  Recordin'  Angel. 
ZERO !  " 

"Oh!  — Urn!     Eh?" 

"  Zero  !  D'  ye  hear  ?  He  's  asleep  again. 
Sleeps  like  a  chockful  graveyard.  Much 
use  you'd  be  —  Zero!  —  you'd  be  if  there 
was  burglars.  Zero  /  Sleeps  like  an  idiot 
asylum.  Zero!  There.  Zero!  Here's  the 
little  dog.  See  ?  " 

Zero  seemed  dimly  to  assert  that  he  saw. 

"  He 's  to  sleep  with  you.  See  ?  You  're 
Hot  to  let  him  out  in  the  morning.  Not  to 
let  the  little  dog  out  in  the  morning  !  Zero  ! 
Do  you  sense  it  ?  There.  Well,  if  he  don't, 
I  can't  do  no  more,"  said  Puella. 

She  came  out,  panting  and  exhausted. 
The  door,  swollen  with  the  fog,  stuck  and 
refused  to  latch.  Matthew  Arnold  evinced 


90  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

a  strong  desire  to  wriggle  out  through  the 
crack ;  but  found  the  attempt  hopeless  and 
subsided.  Zero  slumbered  on,  and  silence 
settled  upon  that  man-protected  house. 

Corona  woke  early.  The  light  was  strong. 
The  sun  seemed  to  be  bathing  in  the  silent 
sea.  She  felt  as  if  she  had  surprised  it.  No 
one  was  astir;  the  fishermen  had  drawn 
their  boats  scraping  over  the  white  sand  an 
hour  since,  and  had  become  only  palpitating 
spots  on  the  horizon.  Faint  white  opaque 
forms  hung  far  out  upon  the  open  ocean, 
like  congealed  breath.  They  were  the  re 
minders  of  departed  and  departing  fog. 
Their  distance  and  slightness  left  a  remark 
able  contrast  of  brilliance  upon  the  clean- 
swept  water  of  the  bay.  Corona  felt  a 
bounding  sense  of  escaped  gloom  as  she 
looked  from  harbor  to  horizon.  The  few 
birds  of  the  seaside  were  singing  somewhere 
unseen.  The  opposite  arm  of  the  shore 
curved  tenderly  about  the  thoughtful  wa 
ter  ;  the  clear-cut  colors  of  cliff  and  sand, 
of  the  forest,  and  the  village,  looked  over. 


MA  TTHE  W  A  RNOLD.  9 1 

Anchored  sails  were  flung  to  dry  in  the 
golden  air ;  departing  sails  looked  back 
affectionately,  but  leaped  outward  with  a 
thrill;  every  little  fishing-boat  was  sentient; 
every  gray,  grave  schooner  had  a  soul.  The 
window  by  the  bed  was  open,  and  beyond 
the  blue  muslin  curtain  the  broad  blue  day 
gazed  in.  The  air  was  electric  and  imperi 
ous  ;  the  world  was  very  good.  Corona,  in 
a  kind  of  trance  of  idleness,  possession,  and 
delight,  heard  feet  astir  at  last,  and  softly 
called  :  — 

«  Puelvir  ? " 

Puella  and  a  crisp  waft  of  frying  cunners 
-came  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs  together 
There  seemed  something  incredibly  poetic 
to  Corona  in  the  fact  of  having  one's  own 
perch  for  breakfast  in  one's  own  house. 
She  turned  from  the  glory  of  the  harbor  to 
the  substantial  footsteps  of  Puella  without 
shock.  It  was  all  like  a  change  of  key  in  a 
mystical  and  joyous  German  opera.  In  a 
dreamy  tone  she  asked  Puella  if  Zero  had 
got  up.  Puella  replied  that  he  had  been 
gone  three  hours  since. 


92  J±AT  OLD  MAI&S  PARADISE. 

"  And  the  dog  ?  "  asked  Corona,  idly,  "  Is 
Matthew  Arnold  safe  up-stairs  ? >? 

"S'pose  so/'  said  Puella.  "The  creetur 
was  up  before  I  was ;  waked  me  up,  too/' 

"  Which  creature,  Puelvir  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  boy0  I  s'pose  he  left  the  dog< 
I  never  looked  to  see0" 

"  Come  up  and  look  into  the  green  room, 
and  call  him  down,"  said  Corona,  pleasantly, 
turning  again  to  the  romance  of  the  sea. 

In  a  few  minutes  Puella  presented  herself. 
Her  face  was  grave.  She  said  i  — 

"  Well,  he  's  gone." 

"  Gone !  Have  you  looked  under  the 
bed  ?  In  the  closet  ?  Under  the  —  No, 
he  could  n't  get  under  the  bureau,  What 
will  my  brother  say  ?  What  shall  we  do, 
Puelvir  ?  Is  this  the  way  dogs  always  do  ? 
I  never  had  a  dog,  Puelvir.  I  don't  know 
what  to  do.  I  wonder  if  they  get  out  win 
dows.  Do  you  think  he  got  out  the  win 
dow  ?  I  think  you  must  hunt  up  Zero.  I 
will  dress  and  help  you  immediately." 

Accordingly,    Puella  put  on   her  rubber 


MATTHEW  ARNOLD.  93 

boots  (she  was  already  as  dependent  on 
those  boots  as  the  Peterkin  family),  to  cross 
the  long,  unrnown,  wet  grass,  in  search  of 
Zero.  Corona  hurried  off  as  soon  as  circum-' 
stances  would  permit.  She  met  Puella  re 
turning  alone,  with  a  string  in  her  hand. 

"  There's  all  that  is  left  of  him,"  said 
Paella,  producing  the  familiar  rope  by  which 
Matthew  Arnold  had  so  won  the  affections 
of  the  expressman.  "  The  creetur  says  the 
dog  followed  him  out.  Says  he  seemed  to 
like  him  first  rate.  Says  he  kep*  along  as 
nice  as  could  be  for  a  ways,  till  he  see  a  cart. 
Guessed  he  thought  it  was  a  nexpress  cart. 
Anyway,  the  critter  put ;  and  the  creetur  "  — 

"  You  confuse  me,"  interrupted  Corona, 
impatiently,  —  "  talking  about  creeturs  and 
critters.  I  don't  keep  track  of  which  you 
mean.  I  suppose  you  mean  the  boy  went 
after  the  dog,  and  could  n't  find  him." 

"  Well,  yes  'm,"  said  Paella  ;  "  that 's  about 
it.  Anyway,  the  dog  is  gone.  And  the  boy 
says  he  never  heard  nothin'  we  said  to  him 
last  night  —  not  nothin' ;  not  one  blessed 
word.  He  thought  it  was  queer  when  he 


94  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

waked  up  and  see  the  critter  sleepin'  on  the 
chair  beside  of  him.  Says  the  dog  asked  to 
go  ;  so  he  let  him  go. .  Says  he  never  heard 
jiothin' ;  not  nothin'.  I  told  him  he  'd  been 
useful  if  we  'd  been  murdered  in  the  night. 
When  you  get  to  be  so  old  as  I  be,  Miss  Co 
rona,  you  won't  have  so  much  opinion  of 
men-folks,  I  dessay.  They  're  well  enough 
in  their  place,"  added  Puella,  drawing  her 
generous  figure  to  its  height  and  speaking 
with  the  unconscious  patronage  of  power; 
"  but  I  don't  want  'em  too  nigh  me." 

"  At  least,"  said  Corona,  "  I  can  get  a 
revolver." 

Puella  made  no  reply.  There  was  one 
thing  —  only  one  —  in  this  world  to  which 
Puella  objected  more  than  she  did  to  a 
man.  That  was  a  pistol.  She  had  never 
been  afraid  of  a  man ;  she  was  very  much 
afraid  of  a  pistol.  She  would  rather  have 
had  ten  tramps  in  the  house  than  one  Smith 
&  Wesson.  But  it  was  not  Puella's  house  ; 
she  could  not  say  anything.  Even  her  ma 
roon  and  indigo  curtains  failed  to  make  her 
fppl  n.t.  homo  inst  then. 


VII. 

MARY. 

CORONA  was  going  to  have  company.  It 
was  her  first  company ;  for  Tom  did  not 
"count."  She  went  about  her  new  home 
in  a  fine  fever.  She  patted  the  house,  so  to 
speak,  for  the  coming  of  her  friend.  The 
arrangement  of  the  table-linen  was  a  poem. 
There  was  romance  in  the  green  borders  of 
the  towels  that  hung  harmoniously  in  the 
green  spare  room.  The  carpet-sweeper  was 
not  without  a  charm,  and  the  duster  had  a 
certain  ideal  character.  The  little  brown 
house  absorbed  more  light  from  the  sun, 
more  soul  from  the  sea,  than  on  lonelier 
days.  Every  fold  of  every  curtain  had  a 
hospitable  air.  Each  picture  on  the  matched 
board  walls  looked  out  expectant. 

In   the   superfluity  of   uncommon   names 


96  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

with  which  chance  had  blessed  her  house 
hold,  Corona  found  a  singular  relief  in  the 
fact  that  her  friend  was  plainly  known  as 
Mary.  Mary  and  Corona  had  riot  met  for  a 
long  time.  The  guest  arrived  at  evening. 
There  was  a  gate  between  Corona  and  the 
street,  which,  for  some  vague  reason  con 
nected  with  cows,  which  Corona  never  fully 
understood,  had  to  be  kept  shut.  Puella 
went  out  and  opened  the  gate  for  the  omni 
bus  when  Mary  came.  As  she  did  so,  Co 
rona  heard  the  sound  of  some  unexpected 
struggle  and  excitement,  and  a  figure  re 
plete  with  confused  associations  bounded  to 
meet  her.  It  was  a  dog.  It  was  a  black- 
and-tan  dog. 

"  I  got  him  in  Boston  !  "  cried  Mary,  com 
ing  in  all  flushed  and  fine  in  her  modish 
traveling-clothes  and  looking  for  a  moment 
very  strange  at  the  homely  little  hearth-side 
where  she  stood.  "  I  wranted  to  bring  you 
something.  I  did  n't  know  what.  I  met  a 
man  trying  to  sell  this  dog.  He  said  the 
fellow  plagued  his  life  out  following  him 


MARY.  97 

round.  He  said  it  would  n't  stay  with  any 
body  else,  but  just  stuck  to  him.'  He  said 
he  was  tired  of  the  sight  of  it.  I  thought 
it  a  pity  —  such  a  pretty  dog.  So  I  bought 
him"  — 

"  Bought  him  !  "  echoed  Corona,  impul 
sively. 

"  Why,  yes.  You  did  n't  think  I  stole 
him  ?  I  bought  him  of  the  man ;  it  was 
an  expressman.  No ;  it  was  an  expressman 
gave  it  to  him.  I  got  him  for  you,  my 
dear ;  and  I  hope  you  '11  love  him  for  my 
sake!" 

"  I  'm  very  much  —  very  much,  indeed," 
faltered  Corona ;  "  and  I  certainly  will. 
Come  here  sir;  come  here.  How  kind  you 
were  —  and  thoughtful.  And  now  you  '11 
come  directly  to  your  room,  I  know.  This 
way.  This  little  dog  is  thirsty.  If  you  '11 
excuse  me  "  — 

She  hurried  to  the  kitchen,  where  she  and 
the  dog  and  Puella  confronted  each  other. 

"  Well !  "  said  Puella. 

"  Yes,"  said  Corona. 

7 


98  ,          AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

"It's  him,"  added  Puella. 

"  It 's  Matthew  Arnold/'  said  Corona,  sol 
emnly.  "  I  see  you  think  so.  There  is  no 
doubt  about  it.  What  shall  we  do  ?  " 

"  I  know  him  by  them  eye-teeth,"  said 
Puella,  grimly,  "  and  that  twist  to  his  tail. 
He  had  that  cock  to  one  eye,  too,  when  he 
ran  around  the  table-leg.  Yes,  it 's  him." 

"  What  can  we  do  ? "  repeated  Corona, 
desperately.  "  I  cannot  tell  her.  How  can 
I?  No.  We  mustn't  tell  her,  Puelvir  — 
at  present.  It  seems  like  deception  ;  but  it 
isn't  our  fault.  We  won't  say  anything 
about  it  to  her." 

"  Nor  to  your  brother,  neither.  Eh  ?  " 
asked  Puella,  sardonically. 

"  No,"  said  Corona,  groaning ;  "  nor  to 
my  brother,  either,  just  yet.  Perhaps  he 
won't  corne  while  Miss  Mary  is  here.  We 
can  trust  not.  We  must  make  the  best  of 
it,  Puelvir.  Give  Matthew  Arnold  his  sup 
per,  and  tie  him  in  a  double  bow-knot.  And 
be  careful  how  you  look,  Puelvir,  when  any 
thing  is  said  before  you  about  the  dog." 


MARY.  99 

And  now  life  in  the  brown  cottage  be 
came  full  of  busy  restfulness.  The  days 
slid  by,  well  comraded.  Corona  was  hap 
pier  than  she  had  ever  expected  to  be,  in 
her  own  house  or  out  of  it.  To  be  sure,  a 
shadow  fell  across  her  content  now  and 
then,  when  Mary  reminded  her  that  she 
was  to  love  that  dog  for  her  sake.  And  she 
found  it  a  little  difficult  at  first  to  call  him 
Launcelot,  which  was  the  name  Mary  had  se 
lected  for  him.  Corona  suggested  Matthew 
Arnold ;  but  Mary  said  that  was  irreverent. 
Corona  inquired  if  Launcelot  were  not  a  lit 
tle  disreputable  ;  but  Mary  thought  not. 
Sometimes  they  compromised  on  Matthew 
Launcelot.  And  these  were  slight  matters. 
And  the  dog  stayed.  In  fact,  he  stayed 
hard.  Whatever  his  unrelated  experience 
during  his  brief  absence  in  Boston,  all  the 
expressmen  of  Fairharbor  could  not  have 
won  him  from  Corona's  back-door  now.  He 
proved  to  be  a  reserved,  inscrutable  charac 
ter,  with  no  undue  amount  of  intellect,  but 
much  repressed  affection,  with  which  he 


100  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

honored  Corona  in  an  unenthusiastic,  but 
dogged  way.  Corona  yielded  to  him  the 
swift  obedience  of  love.  In  short,  Matthew 
Launcelot  soon  became  the  master  of  the 
house.  "  And  Puelvir  is  the  mistress/'  Co 
rona  would  say,  when  she  and  Mary  wan 
dered  away  days  at  a  time  in  the  wide  June 
weather,  delighted  to  know  that  they  did 
not  know  what  they  should  have  for  dinner, 
and  scorning  to  ask  what  to-morrow's  break 
fast  would  resemble. 

To-day  they  scale  the  great  cliffs  of  the 
headland,  emancipated  in  beach-dresses ; 
eager  to  climb  for  the  sheer  love  of  climb 
ing,  that,  like  the  love  of  music,  foreign 
missions,  or  flirtation,  is  native  to  the  soul. 
To-morrow  they  will  have  the  weeds  that 
burn  beneath  the  morning  sun  on  the  rug 
ged  eastern  beaches,  and,  gathering  them 
idly,  fling  themselves  upon  the  rocks  to  see 
the  third  wave  rear  in  —  sentient,  it  seems 
—  a  palpitating  sea-horse,  ramping  beneath 
the  bridle  of  the  strong  head-wind.  And 
Corona,  in  a  low  voice,  quotes :  — 


MAJtY.  :10d 


"  Like  senseless  weeds  that  rise  and  fall 
Upon  Thine  awful  tides ;  are  we 
No  more  then,  after  all  ?  " 

Then,  sauntering  home  at  sunset,  with  the 
tiny  corpses  of  color  that  one  never  knows 
whether  it  is  worth  while  to  save,  they 
gather  like  children  over  the  white  basin 
that  Puella  brings,  to  see  the  resurrection  of 
the  dead.  Crimson,  olive,  corn,  and  car 
mine,  brown  and  amber,  and  the  burning 
green  draw  breath  like  souls.  And,  watch 
ing  these,  they  faintly  hear  the  mighty 
breakers  left  behind  upon  the  now  dark 
ened  and  deserted  shore  ;  and  think  how 
large  the  wave,  how  small  the  weed  ;  and 
think,  perhaps,  how  long  is  life,  how  short 
its  summer,  how  large  denial  is,  how  small 
is  joy ;  and  grow  a  little  sentimental  as  the 
night  comes,  and  the  moon  lifts  her  shoul 
ders  over  the  hill,  and  so  wander  to  separate 
windows  in  the  little  gray  parlor,  and  sit  si 
lent  for  a  while,  till  the  summer  people  start 
a  merry  song  upon  the  beach,  or  one  wan 
ders  up  to  ask,  will  they  join  the  sailing- 


102  AN   OLD  MXI&S  PARADISE. 

party  ?  or  Zero's  mo'ther  sends  him  over 
with  some  flowers  ;  or  Puella  knocks  to  say 
that  folks  are  trying  to  make  a  call,  but 
Matthew  Launcelot  is  barkin'  at  the  brooch 
and  waltzin'  at  it  till  the  hosses  rared  and 
kicked  him  and  she  wished  they  would. 

Or  they  will  visit  every  lighthouse  in  the 
harbor,  and  talk  with  every  keeper,  and 
hear  every  story  of  the  great  storm,  the 
greater  wrecks,  the  strangling  fogs,  the 
enormous  desolateness,  and  the  meagre  sal 
ary  of  the  keeper's  life. 

Or  they  will  row  two  miles  in  the  "  Gull's 
Wing"  (that  is  Corona's  dory),  and  wander 
up  and  down  the  opposite  harbor  shore,  in 
the  heart  of  one  of  Massachusetts  densest 
forests,  to  rest  the  eyes  in  green  and  mute 
ness,  from  the  daily  splendor  of  the  shade- 
less,  shattered  sea. 

Or  they  will  get  out  of  something  for  sup 
per,  the  day  Puella  takes  her  "  afternoon," 
and  tilt  anxiously  upon  the  rocks  for  two 
hours  in  search  of  dinners,  with  their  long, 
unaccustomed,  cruel  poles;  the  wind  in 


MARY.  103 

their  faces,  the  sun  in  their  hearts,  the  sum 
mer  in  their  eyes ;  and  catch  just  three  be 
tween  them ;  and,  being  upon  the  verge  of 
starvation,  fry  them  savagely  for  supper ; 
having  one  apiece,  and  heroically  saving  the 
smallest  for  Matthew  Launcelot. 

Or  they  heard  steps  upon  the  rocks  last 
night ;  or  Matthew  barked  at  eleven ;  or 
oars  dipped  across  the  harbor  at  three,  with 
a  stealthiness  that  bespoke  unusual  errands. 
And  the  two  women,  listening  breathless, 
each  from  her  blue  or  green  bedchamber,  in 
the  black,  defenseless  night,  heard  the  un 
seen  boat  draw  near  and  nearer  to  the  un 
seen  shore ;  and  thought  of  foreign  sailors 
—  the  French,  the  Spaniard,  and  the  "  Por- 
tugee  "  —  of  all  the  lawless  life  that  floats 
into  Fairharbor  from  all  quarters  of  the 
reckless  globe  ;  and  say  to-day  at  breakfast 
that  they  will  not  live  so  any  longer,  and, 
without  further  deference  to  Puella's  super 
stitions,  vow  to  be  accomplished  seven-shoot 
ers  before  another  evening  falls,  and  will  go 
together  to  "  the  city  "  for  that  revolver. 


104  AN    OLD   MAID'S   PARADISE. 

"  The  city  "  is  a  mile  away.  Mary  and 
Corona  row  over  after  supper,  in  the  death 
of  the  hot  day.  Matthew  Launcelot  insists 
upon  accompanying  them  ;  and  when  he  gets 
midway  of  the  burning  water  is  frightened 
out  of  whatever  wits  he  has,  and  does  his 
best  to  upset  the  "  Gull's  Wing/'  with  such 
efficiency  that  for  one  breathless  moment 
Corona's  helpless  oars  fly  from  the  rebellious 
current,  and  she  sees  the  colors  of  her  har 
bor  as  one  sees  the  face  of  sudden  death, 
but  mainly  thinks,  What  will  Mary's  mother 
do? 

Mary,  however,  makes  a  manful  grasp  at 
Matthew  Launcelot's  palpitating  tan  throat, 
and  holds  him  thereafter  in  a  grip  more  of 
sorrow  than  of  love,  until  they  land.  Mat 
thew  Launcelot  is  uncommonly  muddy,  and 
Mary's  dress  is  white. 

But  yet  how  wonderful,  how  wonderful  it 
»d  r  Corona  rows  peacefully  and  powerfully 
after  the  incident  of  Matthew  Launcelot. 
The  sun  sinks.  The  harbor  lights  leap  out 
r—  gold  and  green  and  brave  blood-red. 


MARY.  105 

The  tired  fishermen  creep  home  with  lan 
guid  sail.  Picturesque  old  men,  with  heavy 
beards,  dip  their  black  boats  to  the  gunwale 
for  their  lobster-pots,  which  come  up  flash 
ing  every  color  in  the  prism  to  the  level 
light.  Pleasure  parties  sweep  by  singing. 
The  waves  take  on  the  depths  of  jewels  — 
tender  and  terrible ;  but  the  sky  is  like  a 
mighty  flower. 

As  they  near  the  little  town,  the  colors 
darken  and  alter  impressively.  Huge 
schooners,  barks,  and  ships  at  anchor  block 
their  Avay.  Mary's  white  hand  on  the  tiller 
steers  skilfully  and  silently  beneath  the  hot 
breath  of  panting  steamers.  Rough  sailors 
from  the  crowded  decks  look  down  at  them 
with  grave  and  idle  interest.  Two  spring 
upon  the  wharf  to  help  the  ladies  up  the 
narrow  ladder,  for  the  tide  is  low.  They 
lift  their  hats ;  arid  one  of  them  ties  the 
"  Gull's  Wing/'  which  he  promises  to  watch. 

They  walk,  with  swifter  steps  than  per 
haps  need  be,  through  the  throngs  of  loafers 
in  the  narrow  streets.  There  are  some  hard 


106  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

faces  —  miserable  men  !  They  hang  about 
the  rum-shops  and  the  sailors'  hells.  No 
where  else  does  Corona  see  such  faces.  The 
two  women  draw  their  veils  a  little,  and  pass 
like  two  tall,  shining  lilies  up  the  sultry,  un 
clean  street.  They  need  not  fear.' 

"There  are  two  things,"  said  a  Cape  Cod 
boy,  "  that  a  sailor  will  give  his  life  for,  will 
die  to  defend.  One  is  a  beautiful  vessel; 
the  other  a  delicate  lady." 

Matthew  Launcelot  accompanied  them, 
walking  gravely  through  the  crooked,  busy 
streets,  to  the  revolver  shop.  The  revolver 
shop  was  a  jeweler's. 

" Know  how  to  shoot?"  asked  the  jew 
eler. 

"  Oh  !  no,"  said  Corona,  calmly ;  "  but 
you  can  teach  me." 

The  jeweler  did  not  seem  so  sure  of  this, 
but  kindly  gave  the  lady  a  few  instructions. 
He  was  more  amused  than  Corona  could  see 
reason  for  being.  She  took  her  pistol  and 
her  lesson,  however,  and  hurried  away,  tri 
umphant.  As  they  left  the  store,  coming 


MARY.  107 

out  into  the  now  lighted  and  showy  little 
town,  drops  struck  their  faces. 

"  It 's  beginning  to  rain  !  "  cried  Mary. 

"If  I've  got  to  row  home  in  a  blow/'  said 
Corona,  "  we  cannot  take  this  dog.  He 
might  be  too  much  for  you  to  hold,  if  it  is 
rough.  I  think  he  must  be  sea-sick,  he  acts 
so.  What  shall  we  do  ?  " 

"  I  should  send  him  home  by  —  some 
thing,"  suggested  Mary,  vaguely. 

"  He  might  go  by  the  omnibus,"  said  Co 
rona. 

The  omnibus  was  passing.  So  Matthew 
Launcelot  went  home  by  land. 

"  Lost  your  dog,  eh  ?  "  asked  the  polite 
sailor,  when  he  untied  the  boat. 

"  Why,  I'd  have  rowed  you  over,  dog  and 
all.  You  'd  ought  to  learn  him.  A  dog  has  to 
be  learned  to  be  a  sailor,  like  folks.  Mine  '11 
climb  the  riggin'  now,  well  as  me,  most.  Fust 
time  I  took  him  to  the  Banks,  he  was  so  sick 
we  had  to  set  up  nights  with  him.  I  'd  pull 
pretty  well,  if  I  was  you.  It 's  comin'  up  a 
breeze  of  wind." 


108  AN  OLD  MAID'S   PARADISE. 

It  was,  indeed.  Corona,  pushing  out  into 
the  harbor,  found  that  the  glory  of  the  hour 
had  gone.  Clouds  flew  low,  like  great  birds, 
and  seemed  to  flap  their  dense  gray  wings. 
The  water  had  grown  ominously  dark.  The 
mouth  of  the  harbor  gaped,  and  its  throat 
lay  yellow  and  livid  —  an  ugly  look  —  from 
shore  to  shore.  The  waves  began  to  rise. 
They  took  on  veils  of  brown  and  purple- 
black.  Corona  rowed  hard.  She  rowed 
hard,  but  the  wind  helped  her,  for  the 
shower  lay  in  the  northwest  and  chased  her 
on.  In  the  gloom  and  opacity  of  sky  and 
sea  and  shore  Mary's  dress  and  her  slender 
fingers  looked  singularly  white  and  trans 
parent,  and  seemed  to  light  the  way.  The 
sailors  in  the  schooners,  as  the  "  Gull's 
Wing "  shot  by,  looked  over  a  little  anx 
iously,  it 'seemed,  this  time.  One  old  fisher 
man,  who  crossed  them,  clinging  to  his  furl 
ing,  flapping  sail,  said,  audibly,  to  his  boy  at 
the  tiller,  - 

"  Them  gals  had  better  look  out." 
Corona  rows  steadily.     Once  in   a  while 


MARY.  109 

she  thinks  of  Mary's  mother.  But  she  is 
not  at  heart  afraid.  She  and  the  "  Gull's 
Wing  "  have  taken  too  many  a  wild  flight 
together.  She  sees  the  flying  shore,  the 
crowding  cloud,  the  electric  harbor  throat, 
exultantly.  She  is  in  them,  of  them.  She 
thrills  with  kinship  to  them;  she  quivers 
with  the  passion  of  the  sea. 

And  now  the  Light,  the  reef,  the  buoy, 
the  Neck,  the  Cut,  the  red  buoy,  and  the 
Cove  plunge  by.  Drops  are  on  the  water 
two  miles  off  upon  the  other  shore.  The 
low  brown  cottage  looks  through  the  spray 
of  the  deep  and  angry  waves,  into  whose 
heart  the  "  Gull's  Wing  "  strikes  right  roy 
ally.  There  are  a  few  long  strokes,  a  few 
quick  breaths,  and  swift  between  the  teeth 
of  the  rocks  the  dory  makes  her  haven.  A 
great  wave  carries  her  high  and  dry  upon 
the  sand.  Drops  hit  Corona  sullenly  as  she 
stands,  wind-blown  and  flushed,  in  her  blue 
boating-dress,  to  moor  the  boat,  hand  over 
strong  hand,  by  the  pulley  mooring.  Sud 
denly  the  two  women  feel  the  power  of  the 


110  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

wind  upon  them.  They  bend  their  heads 
and  run. 

It  is  dark  in  the  cottage.  Puella  is  shut 
ting  doors  and  windows.  Matthew  Launce- 
lot,  offended  by  his  aimless  and  anxious 
omnibus  ride,  retreats  to  a  northern  window 
and  eyes  the  storm,  but  is  not  conversational. 
It  is  very  dark  outside. 

Now  the  shower  comes  fast.  Across  the 
bay's  width  drops  step  and  hasten.  One 
can  see  them  coming  like  feet.  Before  one 
thinks  of  this,  they  are  the  footsteps  of  an 
army.  The  sultry  color  of  the  harbor's 
mouth  turns  black.  Then  comes  the  down 
pour.  It  is  not  like  rain.  It  is  a  sheet  of 
white  light.  It  falls  slantwise,  blown  by 
the  gale.  The  rocks  are  frosted  by  the  wet, 
and  glitter ;  and  then  they  give  out  all  the 
light  there  is.  Out  in  front  of  the  cottage 
the  "  Gull's  Wing  "  tears  at  her  tether,  plung 
ing  out  of  sight  in  the  bosom  of  the  wave. 


VIII. 

HOUSE-WARMING. 

"  I  THINK,"  said  Corona,  one  day,  "  that 
we  must  give  a  party." 

"I  would,"  said  Mary,  warmly.  "The 
shore  is  well  filled  now.  People  could  easily 
drive  over.  There  are  the  Burtons  at  Wol- 
choster,  and  Effie  Purchase.  There  is  Gen 
eral  Dolburn  at  Gride's  Farm,  and  the  Hop- 
kinsons  and  the  Allisons  and  some  of  that 
set.  And  at  Dove's  Cote  "  — 

"  Some  time,"  interrupted  Corona,  "  I 
want  to  see  all  those  people  at  my  house ; 
but  not  now,  not  first.  There  are  others 
I  want  to  begin  with.  I  want  to  ask  the 
Ranns  and  the  Fishers,  and  Mrs.  Jacobs  and 
Miss  Thurston,  and  —  let  me  see  !  Oh  !  and 
Mr.  Morrison  and  some  others." 

"  Morrison  ?     Thurston  ?  "    asked    Mary, 


112  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

blankly.  She  did  not  know  these  friends  of 
Corona's.  Thurston  was  a  distinguished 
name. 

"  The  Ranns,"  continued  Corona,  calmly, 
"  live  on  the  hill,  in  that  gambrel-roofed  old 
house.  They  catch  fish.  The  Fishers  sell 
it,  in  that  brown  hut  we  passed  yesterday. 
Mrs.  Jacobs  does  fine  washing  for  the  sum 
mer  boarders.  Miss  Thurston  works  in  the 
net  factory.  Then  there  is  my  dear  Mrs. 
Rowin.  She  is  Zero's  mother.  Old  Mr. 
Morrison  is  our  lobster  man." 

There  was  a  silence.  Mary  took  up  Mat 
thew  Launcelot  and  addressed  some  irrele 
vant  remarks  to  him,  which  Matthew  re 
ceived  with  small  favor ;  but  which  served 
as  an  outlet  to  Mary's  emotions.  Even 
great  failures  have  their  great  uses. 

"I  thought,  dear,"  she  said,  at  last,  pa 
thetically,  "  that  I  was  prepared  for  you 
almost  anyhow.  But  I  was  not.  I  am  not. 
Well.  When  will  you  have  your  party  ?  " 

"  These  people  are  my  neighbors,"  said 
Corona,  earnestly.  "  I  have  come  to  live 


HOUSE-WARMING.  113 

among  them.  I  have  no  others,  except  the 
boarders,  who  don't  stay.  They  seem  more 
like  land-sparrows  than  they  do  like  neigh 
bors.  I  always  thought,  if  one  had  a  house, 
one  would  regard  one's  neighbors  first.  I 
have  chosen  mine.  I  shall  abide  by  my 
choice.  Besides,"  added  Corona,  "  I  like 
these  people.  I  want  them  in  my  house." 

"I've  no  doubt  they  are  excellent  peo 
ple,"  urged  Mary,  hastily ;  "  and  certainly, 
dear,  if  you  wish  to  do  it,  I  will  help  you  all 
I  can."  " 

"  I  shall  ask  Tom  and  Susy,"  added  Co 
rona.  "  And  Effie  Purchase  may  come,  if 
she  wants  to.  But  no  one  else.  Too  many 
people  spoil  a  house-warming.  Let  us  have 
it  the  last  week  in  July." 

Mary  was  silent.  She  did  not  like  to  say 
that  she  hardly  thought  Elf  would  come. 

On  one  point  they  differed.  Mary  thought 
it  necessary  to  christen  the  cottage  before 
they  gave  a  party. 

Corona  could  not  think  of  any  name  that 
she  was  willing  to  call  the  cottage  by.  She 


114  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

was  not  sure  that  she  liked  cottages  with 
names. 

"  It  is  a  snobbish  American  fashion/'  she 
said.  "  Half  of  the  shoddy  places  in  the 
country  are  called  Wildbriars  and  Willow- 
banks,  and  Lilybells,  and  such  things.  This 
is  a  matched  board  cottage.  I  think  I  will 
call  it  the  shanty." 

"  The  chalet  would  be  pretty/'  suggested 
Mary. 

"  Why  not  the  Eobin  Redbreast  ?  "  asked 
Corona,  severely.  "  Or,  The  Tea-chest  ? 
It 's  square.  Or,  The  Fog-bank  ?  It 's  dark 
enough.  That  will  do.  The  Northeast 
Fog-bank." 

Mary  said  she  had  meant  something  not 
exactly  so  serious ;  something  a  little  funny. 

"The  Oyster-Shell.  Or,  The  Lobster- 
Pot.  Or,  The  Clam-bake,"  replied  Corona. 

"  Well,  no,"  said  Mary.  "  But  how  would 
you  like  the  Maiden's  Repose,  for  instance  ?  " 

"  I  will  call  it  the  Old  Maid's  Paradise," 
said  Corona,  after  some  thought.  "  That 
will  do.  '  Presents  her  compliments,  and 


HOUSE-WARMING.  115 

would  be  happy  to  see  you  in  Paradise.' 
Yes.  I  will  consent  to  the  Old  Maid's  Para 
dise." 

The  last  week  in  July  came  in  swift  sea 
son,  and  with  it  the  day  appointed  for  Co 
rona's  party.  With  it,  too,  came  Tom  ;  with 
it  Susy  and  the  baby  (whom  Corona  did  n't 
ask)  ;  with  it  also  Miss  Purchase  of  Wol- 
chester.  With  it  a  placid  harbor  and  a 
windless  east;  the  south  breeze  cooled 
across  miles  of  water  for  burning  inland 
cheeks ;  the  sky  at  rest,  the  tide  at  the  full, 
and  the  last  wild  roses  flaring  on  the  soft 
gray  color  of  the  big  bowlder  and  in  the 
thicket  by  the  gate.  Effie  Purchase  said 
they  looked  like  torches.  She  said  she 
never  saw  anything  so  delightful.  And 
Susy  kissed  Corona  often ;  but  Tom  kissed 
her  twice.  Corona  was  happy.  When  she 
found  that  everybody  treated  her  party  with 
respect,  she  was  very  happy. 

And  Mary  helped  Puella  with  the  cake. 

"It's  just  one  of  her  ways,"  said  Puella 
to  Mary,  as  they  rolled  the  frosting.  "  It 


116  AN   OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

ain't  so  much  havin'  the  folks.  I  don't 
mind  that.  That 's  well  enough,  if  she 
wants  'em.  The  house  is  hern,  and  the 
neighbors  set  by  her  to  be  uncommon  kind 
when  we  first  corne  down.  But  what  I 
can't  consider  is  wastin'  cake  like  this  here 
you  call  French  kisses  on  them  that  '11  never 
know  it  took  the  whites  of  one  dozen  eggs 
to  a  single  receipt.  And  whatever  am  I  to 
do  with  the  yolks,  in  a  house  where  none  of 
ye  will  set  eyes  on  custard-pudden,  nor  yet 
on  pies  ?  " 

Corona's  cottage  looked  pleasant  to  the 
twenty  guests,  who  came  strolling  up  by 
twos  and  threes,  prompt  to  the  early  coun 
try  hour  of  their  invitation.  To  them  there 
was  a  certain  mystery  about  this  Lilliputian 
hospitality.  The  tiny  house  was  not  as 
large  as  some  of  the  homes  from  which  they 
came.  But  there  were  no  tall  ferns  stand 
ing  in  tall  vases  on  their  piazzas,  and  the 
wild  briar  and  woodbine,  the  red  rose- 
seeds,  and  the  delicate  cranberry-vines  that 
wreathed  the  posts  and  door  had  a  perplex- 


HOUSE-WARMING.  117 

ing,  festive  look.  They  had  not  thought 
of  cranberries  in  relation  to  their  capacities 
for  household  art  decoration.  And  wild 
roses  principally  multiplied  and  eat  out  the 
grass.  So  with  the  Chinese  lanterns  on  the 
bowlder  and  veranda,  and  on  the  parlor 
ceiling,  where  they  shed  a  softened  and 
transforming  light  upon  the  happy  faces, 
upturned  to  wonder  if  they  smoked  the 
walls. 

"  She  must  have  give  twenty-five  cents 
apiece  for  them,"  thought  old  Mr.  Morrison. 

"  Father  Morrison,"  said  Corona,  coming 
up  just  then  (it  was  one  of  the  pretty  cus 
toms  of  Fairh arbor  to  call  the  old  men 
father ;  and  Corona  stood  with  a  certain 
reverence,  in  her  plain  light  silk  dress,  be 
fore  the  seated  figure  of  the  old  fisher 
man),  — "  Father  Morrison,  can't  you  tell  us 
something  of  the  great  gale  of  '39  ?  My 
friends  from  home  want  to  hear  about  a 
great  gale." 

u  Well,"  said  the  old  man,  after  a  pause 
and  without  rising,  "  don 't  know  but  I 


118  AN  OLD   MAID'S  PARADISE. 

could.  But  I  ain't  no  gret  of  a  talker. 
I  'm  a  man  of  few  words.  But  I  saw  the 
gale.  Yes !  I  was  a  boy  then.  I  was  thirty 
years  old." 

Tom  came  up  with  Susy.  And  Elf  Pur 
chase  brought  the  sailor,  whom  she  was  en 
tertaining  with  a  candid  charm  and  sweet 
ness  that  the  young  fellows  in  "  society  "  at 
Wolchester  had  never  seen  upon  her  pretty 
face.  Elf  brought  up  her  sailor,  and  sat  on 
a  divan  near  the  old  man's  feet  to  listen.  It 
is  perhaps  mat  apropos  to  talk  about  "  di 
vans  "  in  Corona's  house,  since,  in  truth,  I 
mean  by  that,  in  this  instance,  to  say  a 
soap-box  stuffed  with  excelsior  and  covered 
with  what  Corona  called  "  green  turkey  red." 
But  Mary  corrected  her,  saying  it  was  "  tur 
key  green." 

"  It  come  up  o'  Sunday,"  said  Father 
Morrison,  looking  off  over  Elf's  young  head 
with  blank,  far-seeing  eyes.  "  It  come  up  o' 
Sunday,  in  Jenooary  —  no,  in  December  — 
and  it  blew  till  Tuesday  steady.  It  blew  like 
all  possessed  till  Tuesday  night.  Nobody 


HO  USE-  WARMING.  119 

could  stop  it,  nor  help  it,  nor  do  nothin'  to 
it.  Nobody  can't  with  a  breeze  o'  wind. 
That 's  where  a  breeze  o'  wind  is  different 
from  most  other  trials  that  the  A'mighty 
sends  on  us,  his  critters.  I  was  ashore  ;  but 
my  father  and  my  brothers  —  two  on  'em  — 
was  afloat.  They  just  got  in  and  anchored 
—  there.  Zero,  stand  out  and  let  this  young 
woman  (pointing  to  Miss  Effie)  see  where. 
They  was  in  the  same  pickle  with  the  rest. 
There  was  over  eighty  vessels  in.  Darsen't 
stay  out.  Couldn't  get  in.  It  blew  'em 
agin  t'  other  shore,  for  it  come  from  the 
sou'-sou'east.  Well,  I  don't  know 's  I  've 
much  to  tell.  Only  I  stood  on  shore.  My 
wife  was  with  me,  and  she  held  the  baby. 
My  brother's  wife  was  there  too  —  the  mar 
ried  one  —  and  his  baby.  She  cried  and 
took  on,  for  we  could  see  'em  drag  their  ao,- 
chor.  Lots  of  them  dragged  their  anchor. 
Some  just  swamped.  Some  drifted  to  Long 
Beach.  It  was  freezin'  cold  and  the  riggin' 
was  slippery  as  he — ,  as  slippery.  My 
brother's  wife  was  a  young  thing,  and  sot  a 


120          AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

sight  by  him.  We  see  him  clingin'  to  the 
riggin'.  There  warn't  no  boat  could  live  to 
stir  to  'em.  Fifty  vessels  went  down  in  that 
there  gale,  sir,  right  in  this  harbor ;  and  fifty 
men  was  drowned.  My  father  was  among 
'em,  and  the  boys  —  both  the  boys.  We 
could  see  'em  droppin'  off. 

"  Wednesday  it  calmed  down,"  added 
Father  Morrison,  after  a  silence  which  no 
one  broke,  "  and  I  took  the  widder  home. 
I  had  her  an'  the  young  one  to  look  to.  I 
had  six  of  my  own.  It  come  hard.  Then 
there  was  mother.  Goin'  home  to  tell  her 
was  the  worst  And  I  hed  her  to  keep,  too. 
But  we  got  along.  It  was  a  great  while 
ago.  Things  seem  easier  when  they  hap 
pened  so  long  ago,  young  lady.  That 's  a 
curious  thing.  You  don't  understand  it; 
but  sea-folks  do,  such  a  sight  of  things  keep 
happenin'  to  'em.  Sea-folks  have  to  under 
stand  a  good  many  things,  in  my  opinion, 
that  the  Lord  thought  land-folks  had  n't  got 
the  wit  to  see  into.  So  he  never  called  it 
of 'em.  No,  he  did  n't.  No,  no." 


HOUSE-WARMING.  121 

"  You  have  had  a  hard  life,  sir.  Would 
you  like  to  live  ashore,  then  ?  "  asked  Elf, 
thoughtfully.  She  lifted  her  porcelain  pro 
file  nearer  to  the  old  man's  granite  face. 
She  had  on  something  transparent  and 
white.  Her  breath  came  with  some  timid 
ity.  She  looked  like  an  ideal  questioning  a 
fact. 

"Live  ashore!"  cried  Father  Morrison. 
"  LIVE  ASHORE  !  When  I  come  in  for  my 
buryin',  young  woman,  I  s'pose  I  must  — 
Yes,  yes,  yes.  I  take  it  I  've  got  to  live 
ashore  a  while  then.  So  long  as  I  can  han 
dle  an  oar  or  push  a  dory  off,  no  shore  for 


me." 


"If  it's  nothin'  but  lobsters,"  added 
Father  Morrison,  reflectively,  "  and  you  've 
been  too  old  for  the  Banks  this  some  time 
sence ;  yes,  ef  it 's  nothin'  but  lobsters,  I  'd 
rather  die  a  lobsterer  —  yes,  yes,  I  'd  rather 
die  a  lobster  —  than  live  a  landlubber.  Yes, 
yes,  yes." 

Susy,  on  the  piazza,  had  the  cranberry 
vines  in  her  hand  just  then.  She  was  talk- 


122  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

ing  to  Miss  Thurston.  Miss  Thurston  was 
a  large,  lonely,  homely  woman,  with  the 
anxious  eyes  that  Susy  noticed  most  of  the 
women  in  Fairharbor  seemed  to  have.  Susy 
was  saying  how  beautiful  were  the  cran 
berry  vines.  She  had  never  seen  any  before. 
She  swept  the  long,  delicate,  curving  fronds 
through  her  delicate  fingers,  as  she  spoke. 

"  I  work  in  the  net  factory,"  said  Jane 
Thurston,  impulsively,  glancing  at  her  own 
heavy,  toil-cut  fingers.  "  I  don't  have  much 
time  to  think  if  things  are  pretty.  There  's 
a  good  many  pretty  things  in  this  house.  I 
like  to  look  around.  Miss  Corona  is  so 
neighborly !  I  never  saw  cranberries  used 
for  trimmings  before." 

"  None  of  us  have,  I  think,"  said  Susy, 
gently. 

"  We  pick  'em  to  sell,"  said  Miss  Thurs 
ton. 

"  Are  they  —  Does  it  pay  for  the  trou 
ble  ?  "  asked  Susy,  hesitatingly. 

"  We  give  him  a  half.  We  get  a  half 
for  picking.  He  's  the  man  that  owns  the 


HO  USE-  WARMING.  123 

meadow.  I  s'pose  he  's  a  right  to  his  prop 
erty,  like  other  folks.  I  'm  not  findin'  fault. 
It's  children  do  it  mostly ;  but  women-folks 
don't  have  any  too  many  ways  of  earnin'. 
Mis'  Rowin  and  I  and  some  other  ladies  go 
out  once  in  a  while.  I  go  after  I  get  home 
from  the  factory,  of  a  Saturday.  We  make 
a  little.  It 's  such  uncertain  work  in  the 
net  factory.  They  don't  run  winters. 
Then  spring  and  fall,  when  the  fleets  come 
in,  we  're  drove  so.  The  men  come  with 
their  nets  broke,  and  are  in  a  hurry  to  get 
mended  up.  Sometimes  we  work  very  late. 
I  get  four  dollars  a  week.  I'll  show  you 
over  the  factory,  with  pleasure,  if  you  'd 
like  to  see  it.  Most  of  the  girls  are 
younger  than  me.  Most  of  them  get  mar 
ried  after  a  while.  Some  of  'em  pack  salt 
cod  instid." 

"  It 's  a  hard  life  for  a  woman  living  by 
the  sea,"  said  Susy,  softly. 

"  It 's  dreadful  being  a  woman  by  the 
sea,"  said  Jane  Thurston,  impetuously,  be 
neath  her  breath. 


124  AN   OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

"  Ten  years  ago,"  said  Corona  to  Susy, 
afterward,  "  that  poor  soul  had  a  lover. 
Yes !  You  would  n't  think  it.  He  was  lost 
in  a  fog  at  the  Grand  Banks  the  week  they 
were  going  to  be  married.  And  then  she 
says,  it 's  so  much  worse  if  they  do  marry. 
It  is  no  uncommon  thing  here  for  all  the 
men  in  a  family  to  be  swept  off  within  a 
few  years.  That  Mrs.  Rann,  Tom  enter 
tained  so  nicely,  lost  her  husband  and  four 
sons  in  one  gale." 

66  What  a  dismal  place  to  live  in  !  "  cried 
Susy.  Corona  made  no  answer.  She  did 
not  think  so.  At  any  rate,  her  little  party 
was  not  dismal.  She  watched  the  quiet 
pleasure  of  her  guests  with  a  certain  vanity 
of  possession.  She  rejoiced  in  their  keen 
wit  and  fine,  observant  eyes.  She  was 
proud  of  their  ease  and  gentle  dignity,  their 
sturdy  self-respect,  their  patience  under  sor 
row,  their  courage  in  denial,  their  almost 
unbounded  generosity  to  each  other,  and 
their  well-developed  trust  in  Heaveu.  All 
the  traits  which  she  knew  so  well  in  them 


HOUSE-  WARMING.  125 

seemed  to  her  to  shine  behind  their  holiday 
clothes  and  manners.  She  wondered  if  her 
friends  did  not  envy  her  such  neighbors. 
She  helped  Zero  to  ice-cream  with  the  finest 
thrill  of  hospitality  that  Paradise  had  expe 
rienced  yet.  She  would  have  found  it  diffi 
cult  to  say  what  she  thought  when,  looking 
over,  she  saw  Elf  Purchase  —  hovering  like 
a  bird  in  her  thin  dress  —  breaking  bon-bons 
with  Father  Morrison  in  the  corner,  and 
Jane  Thurston,  laughing,  looking  on  ;  Mrs 
Rowin  examining  the  Venetian  views ;  and 
Charley  Rann  showing  Jenny  Fisher  the  il 
lustrated  "  Rab,"  pointing  out  the  striking 
resemblance  between  that  hero  and  Matthew 
Launcelot,  while  Jenny  turned  the  leaves  to 
see  if  Ailsie  died.  Corona  had  theories  of 
her  own  about  "  society,"  which  she  seldom 
or  never  saw  in  practice  and  of  which  she 
did  not  often  talk.  To-night  she  thought 
about  them  a  little  ;  but  the  tears  came,  and 
she  had  to  stop.  So  she  asked  Zero  to  tell 
them  about  the  sea-serpent. 

"  He  was  discovered  off  rny  rocks,"  said 


126  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

Corona.  "It  was  in  1817  —  my  first  sea 
son."  And  nobody  but  old  Father  Morrison 
saw  her  modest  joke.  But  he  laughed  till 
Zero  had  finished  the  story,  and  the  "  Ser 
pent  "  was  well  out  of  the  Harbor,  after  a 
three  weeks'  visit. 

"I  always  like  to  be  with  good  folks," 
said  Father  Morrison,  standing  in  the  door 
way  to  say  good-night.  "  I  like  to  see  good 
folks.  Misery  loves  company." 

When  the  party  was  over,  and  Corona's 
good  neighbors  were  going  away,  she  and 
Tom,  Susy,  Mary,  and  Elf  stood  at  the  gray 
parlor  windows.  There  was  faint  moonlight 
on  the  bowlder;  on  the  grass  over  which 
the  people  were  passing  quietly ;  on  the 
lonely  street  up  which  they  strolled  to  their 
poor  homes ;  and  on  the  terrible  sea  by 
which  they  lived  and  in  which  (God  knew  !) 
they  might  be  buried.  Far  out  upon  the 
headland  the  great  red  Light  stood  to  watch 
them,  standing  with  clasped  arms  between 
them  and  that  which  lay  beyond.  The  few 
fortunate  people  in  the  cottage  watched 


HOUSE-WARMING.  127 

them,  too,  till  they  had  passed  from  sight. 
No  one  spoke  at  first.  By  and  by  Mary 
said  the  sea  was  rising,  and  that  there  was 
a  fog-horn  out  beyond  the  bar. 

Late  that  evening  there  was  a  knock  at 
Corona's  door.  It  was  Tom.  She  admitted 
him,  wondering;  and  he  sat  down  in  the 
deck-chair  (Corona  slept  in  the  parlor  that 
night),  and  idly  drawled  :  — 

"  There  seems  to  be  —  a  little  confusion 
in  this  family  about  —  that  dog.  Miss  Mary 
says  " — 

Oh  !  the  dog.  Corona  had  never  remem 
bered  him  till  that,  moment.  It  was  a 
dreadful  moment.  She  faced  it  as  well  as 
she  could.  There  was  nothing  for  it  but 
to  tell  Tom  the  whole  story. 

" Never  again,"  finished  Corona,  "will  I 
do  anything  in  the  world  —  if  it  is  only  to 
button  my  boots,  Tom,  dear  —  on  the  ground 
that  people  will  never  know  it.  So  far  as 
my  experience  goes,  people  always  find  out 
everything ;  everything  that  ever  happens. 


128  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

I  'm  glad  they  do.  I'd  rather  they  would. 
I  don't  icant  anything  that  the  whole  world 
can't  find  out,  and  welcome.  But,  Tom, 
darling,  I  did  n't  know  what  to  do ;  and  I 
thought  you  would  n't  come  (you  don't 
often,  you  know) ;  and  Mary  said  to  love 
him  for  her  sake"  — 

Such  roars  of  laughter  interrupted  Co 
rona,  that  Paradise  shook.  Susy  called  to 
know  what  on  EARTH  —  And  Matthew 
Launcelot  was  so  disturbed,  that  Puelvir 
told  him  if  he  did  n't  stop  that  barkin'  and 
waltzin'  she  'd  sell  him  to  the  Raspberry- 
man.  For  reasons  known  only  to  herself, 
the  most  direful  threats  in  which  Puelvir 
ever  indulged  concerned  the  Raspberry- 
man.  He  was  held  over  Matthew  Laurice- 
lot's  head  like  ghosts  over  refractory  chil 
dren  by  unamiable  nursery-maids.  The 
Raspberry-man  was  a  gentle,  inoffensive 
man,  extremely  kind  to  Matthew  Laurice- 
lot.  But  he  was  also  extremely  kind  to 
jpuelvir« 


IX. 

HALF-MAST. 

THE  summer  is  going  fast,  like  youth, 
first  love,  or  hot  waffles. 

Elf  Purchase  gives  utterance  to  this  dar 
ing  and  dignified  sentiment,  one  silver 
morning.  Elf  has  stayed  on  after  the 
party.  Two  guests  at  a  time  constitute  the 
wildest  dissipation  in  Paradise.  When  Elf 
first  came,  she  quoted — - 

"  Only  two  in  the  Garden  walked, 
And  with  snake  and  seraph  talked  "  — 

and  felt  a  little  in  the  way,  as  the  serpent 
must  himself,  she  said,  to  begin  with.  But 
to  stay  in  Fairharbor  is  as  easy  as  sinning. 
Effie  stayed.  To-morrow  she  can  stay  no 
longer.  Mary  and  Corona,  Puelvir  and 
Matthew  Launcelot  will  celebrate  her  last 
day  among  them.  What  shall  they  do  ? 


130  AN  OLD   MAID'S  PARADISE. 

As  I  said,  it  is  a  silver  day.  At  least,  it  is 
a  silver  morning. 

The  fog-bell  has  tolled  all  night.  In  the 
bursting  of  the  dawn  it  is  tolling  still.  I 
should  not  say  this,  either;  for  the  dawn 
cannot  burst  in  a  fog.  It  steals,  it  sifts,  it 
saturates ;  it  scintillates  by  and  by.  Elf 
watches  it  luxuriously  from  the  Old  Maid's 
Paradise,  turning  idly  on  the  pillows,  with 
the  muslin  curtain  pushed  and  thrust  behind 
her,  like  a  fragment  of  the  fog  itself.  Elf 
is  young  and  happy.  She  is  sure  the  fog 
will  lift.  She  calls  out,  merrily  :  — 

"Girls!  Oh!  girls!  We'll  have  a 
moonlight  row.  I'll  row.  That's  what 
we  '11  do  to  celebrate." 

Mary  asks  if  they  shall  begin  that  min 
ute  ;  but  Elf  hardly  hears  the  severe  re 
joinder. 

The  fog  does  not  lift  like  this  at  Gride's 
Farm  or  Wolchester.  She  is  passionate 
with  ecstasy.  She  is  swept  into  the  feeling 
of  the  morning.  Her  young  eyes  impetu 
ously  summon  the  hidden  world. 


HALF-MAST.  131 

Slowly  now,  then  more  swiftly,  to  her 
sweet  autocracy  it  comes  obedient.  The 
huge. gray,  dense,  depressing  mass  on  which 
she  looks  lightens  imperceptibly  at  first, 
and  with  inimitable  delicacy  —  more  like  the 
change  of  color  on  a  girl's  brow  than  like 
any  other  transformation  that  we  know. 
Flushes  of  gold,  silver,  crystal,  and  of  gold 
again,  shoot  over  the  illuminated  mist.  It 
palpitates  with  life.  The  chilly  gray  has 
quite  gone,  like  a  body  slipping  from  a  soul. 
Still,  as  yet  nothing  is  to  be  seen  —  nothing 
but  the  mystery  of  struggling  day.  It  is 
the  old  miracle  re-wrought.  Darkness  was 
upon  the  face  of  the  waters.  But  God  said  : 
"  Let  there  be  light."  As  one  watches,  the 
deepening  color  heaves  gently,  like  a  wo 
man's  breast.  Who  but  a  woman  could 
battle  so  with  Fate  to  keep  her  veil  about 
her?  See  how  mute  she  stands,  but 
haughty  too,  defended  with  a  sweet  defi 
ance  !  And  now  how  graciously,  with  what 
a  glamour  will  she  yield  !  For  the  time  has 
come ;  the  sun  exists ;  the  morning  is  im 
perious. 


132  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

And  now  a  beautiful  transparence  strikes 
and  stirs  the  veil  which  was  fog,  which  was 
mist,  which  was  light,  which  was  color, 
which  is  no  longer  any  of  these,  but  a  gar 
ment  of  spun  glass,  for  a  queen  to  wear  at 
her  crowning.  And,  quivering  behind  it, 
the  young  world  lifts  her  head. 

There  is  color  now  upon  the  sky ;  upon 
the  green,  reluctant  shore ;  upon  the  drip 
ping  cliffs,  that  are  ruddy  and  rich  of  hue. 
These  show  themselves  in  moods  at  first, 
uncertainly.  Slender  outlines  of  the  tallest 
masts  pierce  through.  Then  the  sails  — 
gray,  black,  tan-color,  and  spotless  white  — 
define  themselves,  shading,  as  if  hit  with  a 
huge  blender,  from  dark  to  light.  Over 
head  are  lakes  and  pools  of  burning  blue. 
The  Harbor  is  alive  with  vessels.  They 
turn  their  heads,  and  step  out  confidently 
into  the  still  lingering  mists.  They  appear 
and  disappear  mysteriously  as  they  go. 
The  waves  touch  the  feet  of  the  cliffs  with 
a  gentle  sound.  The  water  will  be  clean 
and  clear.  The  wind  is  low ;  the  sun  is 


HALF-MAST.  133 

high;  and  now  clouds  flit,  but  the  mist  is 
gone.  Only  still  from  beyond  the  Great 
Red  Light,  that  has  watched  all  night,  the 
fog-bell  strikes  the  warning  of  the  off-shore 
fog  no  harbored  eye  can  see. 

"  It  gives  me  a  singular  feeling  always," 
said  Mary,  "  to  hear  that  bell  tolling  on  a 
perfectly  clear  day." 

"It  is  not  clear  to  the  bell,"  replied  Co 
rona.  "  Safe  people  do  not  see  dangers." 

"  If  you  moralize,  I  shall  take  the  noon 
train,"  said  Effie. 

"  A  silver  morning  is  apt  to  make  a  gray 
day,"  pursued  Corona,  dreamily,  from  the 
hammock  on  the  piazza.  "  Oh !  tell  me 
what  is  there  like  it  ?  I  think  it  would  be 
impossible  to  be  wicked  or  restless  or  mis 
erable  or  rebellious,  on  a  gray  day  in  Fair- 
harbor." 

Corona  was  right  about  the  gray.  Noth 
ing  could  possess  a  calmer  charm.  The 
gray  days  are  the  mesmerists  of  sea  and 
summer.  The  soft,  gradual  disappearance 
of  the  vivid  sheets  of  blue  above  has  a  cer- 


134  AN  OLD   MAID'S   PAXAD2SE. 

tain  mystery,  like  the  concealment  of  an 
other  ocean,  "  the  waters  that  are  above  the 
waters"  still  remaining.  The  hot,  direct 
power  of  the  sun  is  slowly  baffled.  The  oc 
cupants  of  Paradise  steal  out  at  first  well 
protected  as  from  a  fire  which  they  do  not 
find ;  for,  suddenly,  as  they  stand  clustered 
under  their  bright  umbrellas  and  shade-hats, 
to  dare  the  morning  glare  upon  the  white 
cliff,  there  is  no  sun  to  dare.  Soft  clouds, 
pearl  and  ash  color,  are  running  into  each 
other's  arms.  The  heavens  are  a  tender 
shield  above  them.  The  feminine  mood  of 
the  receptive  and  reflective  water  turns 
swiftly  pale  and  neutral.  The  rocks  take  a 
deeper  hue  upon  their  steel  and  iron  cheeks. 
Dark  shadows  creep  along  the  fresh-cut  and 
no  longer  brilliant  grass.  Shapes  of  shad 
ows,  too,  pursue  each  other  up  and  down 
the  beach,  left  broad  by  the  retreating  tide. 
Sea  and  shore  and  sky  are  full  of  "  middle 
tones."  Only  the  unaccustomed  eye  could 
call  this  the  negation  of  color.  To  the  lover 
of  the  gray  days,  the  repression  and  the  pas- 


HALF-MAST.  135 

sion  and  the  power  of  tint  and  shade  are 
intense. 

The  three  women  doff  their  useless  hats, 
and,  with  foreheads  bare  to  the  low,  keen, 
eastern  wind,  wander  away  the  morning 
long,  over  the  beach,  the  hill,  the  Point, 
the  rich  and  rugged  shore,  getting  them 
selves  as  much  tanned  as  possible  — "  to 
keep  up  the  values  of  the  picture,"  Elf  said. 
Even  Matthew  Launcelot  approves  the  ab 
sence  of  the  August  sun,  and  seems  to  ex 
tend  a  dignified  recognition  of  its  courtesy 
to  Heaven,  though  plainly  feeling  it  no  more 
than  he  deserves.  He  looks  over  Mary's 
shoulder  with  a  critical  air  when  she  flings 
herself  down  in  the  great  huckleberry  pas 
ture  on  the  ridge,  to  read  what  Byron  and 
Celia  Thaxter,  Wordsworth,  Barry  Cornwall, 
and  Jean  Ingelow  will  say  about  the  sea. 
Matthew  Launcelot  was  in  some  haste  to  ac 
company  the  ladies  this  morning,  for  Puel- 
vir  said  the  Easpberry  Man  was  driving 
down  the  road.  Matthew  Launcelot  proves 
himself  peculiarly  skilled  in  eating  buckle- 


136  AN   OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

berries  off  the  bush.  This  exciting  incident 
delights  the  little  company.  Who  would 
think  of  anything  more  grave  to-day  ? 
Wordsworth  and  Jean  Ingelow  may  stay  in 
the  thicket,  and  be  "  intense  "  and  "  ear 
nest"  by  themselves. 

The  gray  day  does  not  live  long.  In  its 
stead  there  begins  to  creep  up  into  the 
huckleberry  pasture,  a  soul  and  a  sense  un 
known  till  now  to  the  August  shore.  Elf 
cries  that  this  is  a  new  page  in  the  Poem 
of  Fairharbor,  and  she  will  never  go  home 
till  she  has  found  out  what  it  means. 

"  It  means  the  Indian  Summer,  by  and 
by,"  said  Corona,  slowly. 

The  wind  has  shifted  a  little.  It  trembles 
from  the  southeast  to  the  south.  There  is 
still  a  dash  of  salt  in  the  air;  but  the  air 
and  the  dash  are  gentle.  The  gray  day  has 
grown  gold  as  Florida.  Up  here  on  the 
hill,  it  seems  peculiarly,  pungently  sweet, 
and  the  Harbor,,  lying  below,  seems  to  be 
blossoming  and  odorous,  like  a  foreign 
flower  they  have  never  seen  before.  A 


HALF-MAST.  137 

breath  of  fog  exhales  from  one  knows  not 
where  —  thin,  warm,  and  shifting  ;  scarce 
enough  to  jog  the  fog-bell  gently  now  and 
then. 

"  As  if  it  were  calling  the  sailors  to  din 
ner,"  suggests  Elf ;  "  but  usually  I  think  it 
is  burying  them  all." 

The  water  as  she  speaks  becomes  bright 
—  a  blur  of  light.  It  is  too  bright  to  be 
watched.  Down  on  the  rocks,  ladies  in  red 
jackets  lie  reading  lazily  beneath  Japanese 
umbrellas.  The  wind  strengthens.  Even 
Celia  Thaxter's  pages  will  not  keep  their 
poise  in  Mary's  hands ;  for  Mary  will  begin 
to  read,  and  Elf  will  walk,  and  Corona  will 
go  with  her.  Even  Matthew  Launcelot 
partakes  of  an  extra  course  of  blueberries, 
for  the  day  has  struck  a  key  to  which  the 
nerve  must  start  and  vibrate. 

The  cattle  browsing  on  the  Point  are  cut 
clear  against  the  sky.  The  beach  is  still 
bare  and  warm.  Shoreward  the  water  is  a 
vivid  green.  At  times  the  sky  and  sea  have 
an  indefinite,  achromatic  appearance,  neither 


138  AN   OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

blue  nor  gray  nor  white.  A  mullein  at  Co 
rona's  feet  has  died,  and  stands  brown,  stiff, 

^ 

sere,  and  stark  against  the  perspective  of 
the  Point.  Flocks  of  swallows  beat  the  air. 
They  are  flying  southward.  They  settle  on 
the  roofs  of  Mr.  Fisher's  barn,  on  Mrs.  Row- 
in's  dead  cornfield,  on  the  rigging  of  the  lit 
tle  yacht  the  summer  people  have  anchored 
off  the  Cove. 

Far  down,  the  "  Gull's  Wing  "  moves  mus 
ingly  about  her  mooring,  with  the  skiff  at 
her  side.  The  skiff  looks  like  a  baby.  The 
dingy  city,  too,  seen  from  this  height,  looks 
small  and  far  and  fair.  The  fishermen's 
homes  have  a  certain  radiance  in  the  ideal 
izing  air.  The  Old  Maid's  Paradise  seems 
to  nestle  confidingly  against  the  summer 
sky. 

Corona,  beneath  her  breath,  says  "  There 
is  time  yet,  time  yet,"  as  they  clamber  down 
the  hill,  and  wade  the  yellow  sand  of  the 
upper  beach,  and  leap  the  stone  walls  that 
everybody,  including  the  picturesque  cattle, 
feels  at  liberty  to  tumble  down  and  cross, 


HALF-MAST.  139 

and  so  come  slowly  home,  to  find  Puelvir's 
chowder  as  perfect  as  her  temper,  though 
the  dinner-bell  rang  wildly  toward  the  hill 
an  hour  since. 

Ah !  then,  how  luxurious  the  colors  of 
the  shaded,  silent  house.  Delicious  to  get 
out  of  hot  beach-dresses  and  down  into  the 
surf  before  the  chowder,  and  come  to  dinner 
with  undried  hair  for  which  no  one  shall 
apologize,  and,  in  the  unbelted  white  wrap 
per,  or  the  cool  and  dainty  dressing-sacque, 
wander  about  the  free,  delightful,  manless 
house. 

"  How  perfect  to  be  three  women  —  to 
be  four  women  by  yourselves !  "  cries  Elf. 

The  fog  does  not  return  with  the  after 
noon  ;  but  the  golden  weather  lives.  There 
is  a  moon  to-night,  after  all.  Elf  can  have 
her  row. 

The  "  Gull's  Wing  "  is  drawn  in,  after  the 
early  tea,  and  comes  leaping  over  the  full 
tide,  between  the  rocks,  impatient  to  be 
gone.  Matthew7  Launcelot  is  unanimously 
left  at  home.  Puelvir  comes  down  to  help 


140  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

them  off.  She  stands,  gaunt  and  strong, 
against  the  sky,  as  the  boat  bounds  out, 
obedient  to  her  mighty  push.  The  delicate 
women  look  small  to  her,  as  she  looks  down. 
She  thinks  how  fine  the  sky,  and  that  the 
dishes  are  not  done.  She  thinks  Miss  Co 
rona's  beach-dress  must  be  washed  next 
week,  and  that  the  Harbor  has  a  pretty  look 
against  the  light-house  reef.  Perhaps  she 
wonders  what  it  would  be  like,  if  somebody 
else  were  to  "  do  "  the  tea-things  on  pleasant 
nights.  Perhaps  her  imagination  takes  a 
high  flight,  and  in  a  dream  of  ecstasy  she 
sees  Aerself  sailing,  by  moonlight  too,  in  her 
best  bonnet,  with  the  Raspberry  Man. 

The  boat  bounds  out. 

Puelvir,  when  the  dishes  are  done,  sits 
faithfully,  behind  her  maroon  and  indigo 
curtains,  to  watch  it,  lest  it  overset.  Mat 
thew  Laimcelot  sits  beside  her.  He,  too, 
watches  the  boat.  Now  and  then  he  runs 
his  tongue  out  swiftly,  and  in  again,  in 
an  embarrassed  way,  peculiar  to  Matthew 
Launcelot  when  suffering  from  disappointed 


HALF-MAST.  141 

aspiration.  He  makes  no  other  comment 
upon  the  fact  that  he  and  Puelvir  were  not 
wanted. 

"  The  sky,"  says  Puelvir,  presently,  aloud, 
"  looks  like  them  old-fashioned  Chiny  pinks." 

Matthew  turns  his  head,  confidingly,  far 
upon  one  side,  to  hear  her.  He  is  not  sure 
whether  he  understands  Puelvir. 

And  still  the  boat  bounds  out  powerfully ; 
for  Elf  does  not  row  very  long.  When  she 
has  all  bat  twice  upset  the  "Gull's  Wing," 
cracked  a  blade,  lost  a  thole-pin,  and  trailed 
her  overskirt  pathetically  through  the  shin 
ing  water,  she  relinquishes  the  oars  to  Co 
rona's  practiced  grasp.  The  sun  is  going, 
and  the  Lights  come  out.  Already  the 
moon  lies  pale,  with  her  chin  upon  the  hill. 
But  between  her  and  the  waiting  Harbor 
still  rest  the  flushes  of  the  sky. 

"  I  never  can  talk  when  the  sky  is  pink," 
observes  Elf.  And  Mary,  leaning  languidly 
against  the  stern,  clasps  her  hand  behind 
her  head,  and  quotes,  beneath  her  breath : 


142  AN  OLD  MAW'S  PARADISE. 

"  A  rose-cloud  dimly  seen  above, 

Floating  through  heaven's  blue  depths  away; 
O  sweet,  fond  dream  of  human  love, 

For  thee  I  may  not  pray." 

"  Why,  Mary  !  "  says  Corona,  softly.  "  I 
did  not  know  anybody  in  the  world  but  my 
self  said  that,  when  the  sky  is  this  color. " 

"  Why,  I  always  have  !  "  cries  EH,  "  ever 
since  I  was  a  little  girl.  I  thought  every 
body  did.  I  thought  it  was  a  general  way 
of  praying  —  like  a  litany." 

But  now  the  rose  has  faded,  and  soft 
brown  tints  steal  over  the  bay.  Every  ship 
has  a  shadow.  Every  shadow  leans  to  the 
western  shore.  Dim  forms  of  sailors  on  the 
dimmer  rigging  make  unseen  preparations 
for  a  night  of  safety  and  of  sleep.  Pleasure- 
boats  glide  by  most  quietly.  A  faint  light 
(of  which  Mary  notices  that  it  is  tinted  like 
the  tear-vessels  of  Cyprus,  and  will  ask  no 
body's  pardon,  since  Elf  said  that  the  sunset 
was  like  a  Turner),  a  thin  light  begins  to 
touch  the  mainmasts  of  the  tall  schooners 
and  the  forehead  of  the  headland  nearest  to 


HALF-MAST.  143 

the  unsheltered  sea.  It  is  the  hour  of  the 
moon. 

Still  Corona  rows  steadily,  and  the  boat 
bounds  out.  She  rows  against  the  wind. 
They  will  come  home  easily.  Nobody  is 
afraid,  though  the  line  of  schooners  thins  a 
little  and  the  sailing-parties  have  all  drifted 
in.  They  row  in  a  path  of  flame  and  will 
follow  the  mounting  moon.  The  shores 
look  denser  on  either  hand  because  of  the 
glory  in  which  they  glide.  Yet  a  wonderful 
distinctness  touches  certain  details.  The 
roof  of  the  Old  Maid's  Paradise  glitters 
sharply,  and  Elf  declares  she  can  see  the 
last  wild  roses  on  the  bowlder,  and  asks,  as 
if  in  confirmation  of  her  statement,  what 
sight  on  earth  so  delicate  as  a  wild  rose  seen 
beneath  the  moon  ?  And  now  they  approach 
the  Great  Red  Light. 

There  is  something  so  impressive  in  the 
vicinity  of  this  Light,  that  they  cannot  talk 
about  it.  Corona  lifts  her  sparkling  oars, 
and  the  three  women  drift  for  a  while  in  si 
lence  at  its  solemn  feet,  between  the  haven 


144  AN  OLD  MA1WS  PARADISE. 

and  the  deep.     Presently,  in  a  sweet  voice, 
to  a  low,  monotonous  air,  Elf  begins  to  sing : 

"  Away!  away!  till  the  shore  dies  out, 

Till  the  waves  and  the  stars  are  around  us  only  1 
On  to  the  bounds  of  the  outermost  space, 

Where  the  shades  of  the  Ancient  Night  sit  lonely, 
Alone  on  the  terrible  waste  with  God! 

The  broad  waves  stretch  where  the  sight  dies  aching, 
And  the  stars  swing  like  lamps  in  the  Judgment  Hall 

On  ths  eve  of  the  Day  of  the  Last  Awaking ! 

"  We  shall  tread  no  more  on  the  hills  of  earth, 

We  shall  look  no  more  upon  earth-worn  faces ; 
Loves  and  hopes  that  were  ours  shall  find 
Deeper  than  lead  sinks,  burial-places. 
We  will  ride  like  gods  in  the  white  moonlight, 

While  the  old  sea  heaves  with  a  fierce  endeavor 
To  break  the  bonds  that  have  made  him  ours. 
Oh  !  the  sea  is  ours,  is  ours  forever!  " 

As  the  last,  long,  exultant  notes  die  upon 
the  shining  air,  Corona  utters  a  swift  excla 
mation  and  pulls  sharply  on  her  larboard 
oar. 

A  terrible  shadow  looms  above  them.  An 
instant,  and  they  had  struck  a  huge  old 
fishing  schooner  that  is  coming  in.  They 
look  up  at  her  timidly.  The  "  Gull's  Wing  " 


HALF-MAST.  145 

quivers  in  the  ripple  from  her  mighty  sides. 
The  color  of  the  vessel  is  black.  Her  sails 
are  dingy  and  old.  She  is  heavily  weather- 
beaten.  Her  crew,  seven  or  eight  in  num 
ber,  cluster  on  her  deck.  They  are  singu 
larly  silent,  Corona  thinks.  As  the  prow 
steps  solemnly  by  and  glides  away,  the  ves 
sel's  name  shows  distinctly,  beneath  the 
moon. 

Elf  begins  to  sing  again,  lightly  this  time  : 

"  A  sailor's  wife  a  sailor's  star  should  be! " 

But  Corona  interrupts  her,  with  an  awe 
struck  cry  : 

«  Oh,  girls  !     Oh,  hush  !     Look  there  ! " 

She  points  upward,  where  in  the  shadow 
the  flag  hangs  low  above  the  perfectly  silent 
crew. 

"  The  flag"  whispers  Corona,  "  is  at  half- 
mast" 

But  Elf  and  Mary  do  not  understand. 

"  They  put  it  at  half-mast  when  some 
body  is  dead.  They  have  come  home  from 

the  Banks,  and  left  one  of  the  boys  behind. 
10 


146  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

See !  How  still  they  are !  They  will  sail 
like  that  the  length  of  the  Harbor.  And  — 
people  are  watching  —  to  see  them  come  in. 
And  —  for  a  while  nobody  can  tell  which  it 
is.  Only  that  one  is  gone  !  Oh  !  girls,  let 
us  go  home  !  " 

They  turn  and  drift  toward  home.  The 
black  vessel  keeps  still  beyond  them,  carry 
ing  her  speechless  crew.  Corona  moors  the 
"  Gull's  Wing,"  and  the  three  women  go 
into  the  blessed  cottage,  which  sends  no 
dear  one  down  to  the  terrible  sea  in  ships. 
They  think :  There,  indeed,  is  Paradise, 
where  death  is  not. 

Out  in  the  moonlight  the  vessel  keeps  on 
her  solemn  way.  Watchers  on  shore  come 
to  the  rocks  with  glasses,  to  read  her  name, 
it  is  so  light. 

It  is  not  till  morning  that  the  message 
comes  from  poor  little  Zero,  who  tries  to 
play  with  Matthew  Launcelot,  but  finds  that 
is  a  thing  which  cannot  be  done  when  fa 
thers  die. 

Puelvir  puts  a  white  face  through  the  re- 


HALF-MAST.  147 

luctant  door  of  the  happy  blue  bedroom, 
and,  hesitating  and  stammering  with  her 
usually  clear  words,  she  says :  — 

"  Miss  Corona,  dear,  the  '  Ella  B.  Rowin ' 
come  home  last  night  at  half-mast ;  but  she 
left  the  mate  —  at  Georges  —  in  the  fog. 
Folks  told  her  so  sudden  —  they  had  ought 
to  be  —  ought  to  be  —  sold  —  to  the  RASP 
BERRY  MAN  !  She  was  helpin'  Miss  Jacobs, 
for  she  was  overdrove  on  a  frilled  petticoat 
for  a  lady  up  to  the  hotel,  and  it  was  late. 
This  man  come  in  and  told  her :  '  Your 
husband  's  drowned  at  Georges'  — just  like 
that.  She's  been  that  bad  all  night  she 
talks  of  you  considerable,  and  the  boy  says 
his  sister  says :  Won't  you  come  over  right 
away  ?  " 


ZERO. 

"  I  THINK,"  said  Corona,  one  day,  "  that 
it  is  time  I  practiced  a  little  with  my  re 
volver." 

Corona's  family  received  this  announce 
ment  with  doubtful  cordiality.  Mary  said 
she  did  n't  know,  and  Puella's  emotions 
were  so  much  for  her  that  she  left  the  din 
ing-room  silently.  Do  we  credit  the  ser 
vant  behind  our  chair  with  the  amount  of 
self-control  required  not  to  comment  upon 
our  conversation,  reply  to  our  rebuke,  or 
retort  upon  our  temper,  injustice,  or  suspi 
cion?  Perhaps  one  third  of  the  reticence 
and  self-possession  which  we  require  of  the 
kitchen  would  keep  the  parlor  in  good 
nature  for  a  generation. 

Puella,  as  I  say,  made  no  remarks  about 


ZERO.  149 

the  pistol,  and  Corona  proceeded  to  put  her 
intent  into  execution. 

With  some  inward  trepidation,  but  ex 
treme  outward  calm,  she  brought  down  the 
revolver  and  examined  it.  It  proved  to  be 
uncommonly  rusty.  Corona  had  a  vague 
impression  that  rusty  revolvers  kicked.  She 
accordingly  withdrew  her  unused  cartridges 
by  a  slow  and  laborious  process  peculiar,  I 
think,  to  herself,  consisting  mainly  of  sharp 
dabs  and  sidelong  applications  of  a  darning- 
needle,  much  denting  of  her  soft  finger-tips, 
and  much  peering  over  the  muzzle,  to  see 
how  many  balls  were  left  to  push  out. 

Mary  suggested  that  this  method  of  un 
loading  was  not  unattended  with  danger, 
and  proposed  that  they  send  for  Zero.  In 
vain  Corona  inquired  of  what  use  could  Zero 
be.  Zero  was  a  man  —  at  least,  he  would 
be,  ten  or  a  dozen  years  hence  ;  therefore, 
he  must  know  about  pistols.  True,  by  the 
time  Zero  was  obtained,  Corona  had  her 
pistol  neatly  (if  unscientifically)  emptied, 
oiled,  cleansed,  and  reloaded  ;  but  Mary  felt 
safer. 


150  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

"  There  is  one  trouble,"  observed  Corona, 
as  Mary  and  Zero  came  up.  "  I  don't  seem 
to  have  any  target  down  here.  As  soon  as 
I  take  aim,  somebody  comes  and  sits  on  a 
rock  just  within  range.  I  narrowly  escaped 
murdering  two  children,  three  nurses,  an 
old  gentleman,  and  Mrs.  Kowin's  cat,  since 
you  went  away.  The  cat  was  with  the  fish 
ing  party,  and  watching  for  the  perch  as 
they  came  off  the  hook.  Then,  whenever  I 
do  fire,  Matthew  Launcelot  runs  directly 
there,  to  see  what  it  is.  He  thinks  it  is  a 
spool,  or  something  to  be  played  with.  It 
is  very  trying." 

"  You  ken  take  me,"  said  Zero. 

"  Take  you  !  " 

Corona  meditated  on  this  proposal,  uncer 
tain  whether  it  contained  any  latent  irrev 
erence.  Zero  stood  regarding  the  pistol 
with  the  listless  motion  and  uninquisitive 
gravity  common  to  the  shore  boys,  and  in 
creased  by  Zero's  infirmity. 

"  Yes,"  said  Zero.  "  Take  me  for  a  tar 
get.  I  '11  resk  it." 


ZERO.  151 

"  You  may  go  into  the  house,"  said  Co 
rona,  severely,  "  with  Miss  Mary.  I  do  not 
wish  ^mybody  around  while  I  practice." 

Zero  obeyed,  still  without  a  smile.  Mary 
obeyed  with  alacrity.  She  and  Zero  shut 
the  front  door. 

"  Is  Puelvir  in  ?  "  called  Corona. 

Yes,  Puella  was  in,  quaking. 

"  Call  in  Matthew  "Launcelot,"  cried  Co 
rona.  "  Lock  in  Matthew  Launcelot.  I  'm 
going  to  shoot  at  the  house.  I  wish  you  'd 
all  go  into  the  kitchen  and  shut  every  door. 
I  shall  aim,"  added  Corona,  with  dignity, 
"  at  the  lowest  step,  from  a  spot  seven  feet 
down  the  cliff.  I  cannot  hit  you.  Don't  be 
afraid.  The  steps  themselves  are  at  least 
eight  feet  high.  I  wish  you  'd  tie  Matthew 
Launcelot." 

Corona's  directions  were  fully  obeyed. 
Mary,  Puella,  Zero,  and  the  dog  gathered 
in  the  kitchen,  with  closed  doors  and  anx 
ious  faces.  Corona  took  her  pistol  with  a 
sprightly  air,  and  stationed  herself  seven 
feet  below  the  steps,  at  whose  least  and  low- 


152  AN   OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

est  knot-hole  she  took  her  faltering  aim. 
As  she  crouches  there  in  the  keen  salt  air 
and  direct  September  sun,  prone  upon  the 
genial  rock,  she  feels  a  long  warm  wave 
creep  and  wash  over  her  feet,  and  the  cling 
ing  flannel  dress,  so  used  to  the  waves  now 
that,  like  sea-weeds  or  sea-pebbles,  it  never 
looks  so  well  as  when  under  water.  For 
Corona  no  more  thinks  of  changing  her  wet 
clothes  at  Fairharbor  than  would  Zero  or 
the  lobsters.  An  indescribable  touch  of 
freedom  overtakes  her  with  the  sense  of  the 
waves.  She  is  exhilarated  with  the  rude, 
crude  life  that  she  has  chosen ;  combining 
(like  the  model  boarding-house)  all  the  lux 
uries  of  liberty  with  all  the  "  comforts  of  a 
home."  She  is  intoxicated  with  the  nature 
of  an  existence  in  which  to  lie  in  the  sun  on 
a  rock  and  shoot  a  pistol  badly  shall  be  the 
excitement  of  an  hour  and  the  event  of  a 
day.  Indeed,  she  thinks  so  much  about  it 
that  she  quite  forgets  to  shoot ;  and  Mary 
puts  her  head  out  of  the  kitchen  window, 
cautiously,  to  remind  her  that  it  is  rather 


ZERO. 

warm  —  three  people,  a  dog,  a  cook-stove> 
and  ironing-day  —  in  a  9x8  kitchen;  and 
has  she  shot  herself?  Or  does  she  want 
the  darning-needle,  to  reload  with  ? 

Thus  recalled  to  duty,  Corona  on  the 
rock  pulls  her  reluctant  trigger  and  aims  at 
Paradise.  There  is  smoke  —  explosion  — 
then  that  most  awful  of  human  sounds,  a 
cry  following  a  shot. 

Paradise  seems  to  shudder  and  rock  to  its 
A  No.  1  cedar  posts.  With  that  hideous 
momentary  sense  of  goneness  for  which  no 
security  ever  atones  in  this  world  of  evil 
chances,  Corona  plunges  over  the  cliff,  and 
up  the  steps,  and  in. 

"Is  it  Mary?  Puelvir?  Is  it—  Oh! 
Who?" 

In  the  kitchen  confusion  reigns.  It  is 
Matthew  Launcelot.  It  is  Matthew  Launce 
lot,  tied  to  the  ironing-table.  It  is  Mat 
thew  Launcelot,  uttering  howls  than  which 
Cerberus  could  no  worse,  and  spinning 
around  the  table-leg  against  an  uncertain 
background  of  falling  flat-irons  and  clean 
starched  clothes. 


154  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

"  Oh  !  have  I  kitted  him  ?  " 

"  Killed  him  !  "  cries  Puella.  "  No  such 
luck.  He  heard  them  shots,  and  thought  it 
was  the  Kaspberry  Man.  That 's  all.  He 
upset  all  your  night-gownds  and  Miss 
Mary's  flounced  petticoats,  and  then  sot  on 
a  hot  flat-iron,  and  stood  and  yelled.  Killed 
him  !  No.  I  wish  you  had." 

And  silence  reigns  in  that  kitchen  for  a 
limited  space  of  time.  Zero,  however,  re 
lieves  the  general  awkwardness  by  propos 
ing  that  they  go  and  find  how  near  Miss 
Corona  hit  her  target.  So  he  and  the  two 
ladies  go  out  again  into  the  sunny  air,  from 
which  the  murderous  smoke  is  faintly  set 
tling  away. 

"  Think  of  killing  a  man  —  a  live  man  !  " 
observes  Mary. 

But  Corona  cannot  answer  this  original 
remark.  Into  her  wild  mood  of  a  moment 
since,  the  dull  human  sense  of  limitation  has 
pressed  and  come,  insisting.  One  is  not 
free,  then,  it  seems,  to  fire  at  one's  own 
house  in  this  crowded  world.  And  does  not 


ZERO.  155 

an  emotion  of  pain  outweigh  a  lifetime  of 
pleasure  ? 

But  the  ball,  meanwhile,  is  nowhere  to 
be  found.  Zero  searches  very  conscien 
tiously.  He  does  not  smile.  Past  the  knot 
on  the  lowest  step ;  past  the  step ;  up  an 
other  ;  up  the  flight ;  over  the  threshold, 
fifteen  feet  above  the  level  of  the  aim,  a 
small,  swift,  cruel  black  mark  lurks  behind 
the  front  door.  Zero  goes  in  and  picks  up 
the  ball  from  under  the  parlor  stove.  He 
says :  — 

"  Here  it  is,  Miss  Corona.  I  said  I  'd  resk 
it." 

After  this  observation,  Corona  cleans  her 
pistol  in  silence ;  Puella  "  does  over "  the 
spoiled  petticoats ;  Matthew  Launcelot  is 
untied,  to  go  fishing  with  the  cat;  Mary 
wanders  with  a  novel,  which  she  will  not 
read;  Zero  plugs  up  the  bullet-hole  with 
putty ;  the  morning  warms,  and  the  waves 
loan  low,  and  a  gentle  apathy  settles  upon 
Paradise. 

Perhaps  it  is  owing  (so  unconscious  are 


156  AN  OLD  MAWS  PARADISE. 

we  of  our  subtlest  emotions)  to  her  prevail 
ing  sense  of  humiliation,  that  Corona  under 
takes  to-day  to  "  improve "  the  boy  Zero. 
She  calls  him  to  the  red  rock  presently, 
where  she  and  Mary  are  tired  discussing 
whether  Deronda  should  have  married 
Gwendolen.  Mary  has  brought  the  conver 
sation  to  an  abrupt  termination  by  the 
unprecedented  suggestion  that  Gwendolen 
would  n't  have  had  him.  She  reverenced 
him  too  much  to  risk  losing  her  ideal  in  a 
fact,  her  priest  in  her  husband. 

Zero  comes,  in  answer  to  the  lady's  call. 
He  stands  upon  the  red  rock ;  he  wears 
brown  overalls  and  a  green-check  cotton 
waist  or  blouse  sewed  into  a  belt  —  the  mas 
culine  uniform  of  Fairharbor ;  he  calls  it  a 
"jumper."  He  is  filliping  gray  and  golden 
snail-shells  into  the  water,  previously  re 
moving  the  snail.  Mary  turns  her  back 
upon  this  entertaining  occupation ;  but  Co 
rona  is  used  to  it. 

"  Zero/'  begins  Corona,  "  do  you  really 
believe  in  the  sea-serpent?" 


ZERO.  157 

«  'D  be  a  fool  'f  I  didn't/'  replies  Zero, 
succinctly.  "  Grandfather  see  him." 

«  Oh  !      Your  grandfather  ?  " 

"  Yes.  He  was  the  first  to  see  him.  He 
discovered  him  jest  oft  your  rock.  He  was 
a  boy,  not  so  old  as  me,  'n  him  and  another 
boy  was  lookin'  for  driftwood ;  and  says 
Grandfather  :  '  There  's  a  spar  ! '  So  they 
went  and  pitched  right  into  the  old  chap, 
lickety-cut,  like  he'd  ben  a  spar,  to  spear 
him  in.  I  don't  suppose  he  liked  it  much. 
He  wriggled  and  cleared.  He  stayed  in  the 
Harbor  a  good  spell.  Folks  tried  to  shoot 
him.  They  could  n't  hit  him,"  added  Zero, 
slowly  ;  but,  seeming  to  feel  that  he  was 
trenching  upon  delicate  ground,  hastened  to 
continue  :  "  He  was  seventy  feet  long,  with 
a  head  like  a  hoss's.  There  was  thirty  de- 
po-si-tions,"  said  Zero,  pausing  over  the  un 
accustomed  syllables,  "  to  the  sea-serpent. 
It 's  down  in  a  book.  It 's  down  in  the  hir- 
tory  of  Fairharbor.  Mother 's  got  the  book. 
I  '11  lend  it  to  you.  Father  used  to  read  it 
a  sight.  Mother 's  going  Down  East  to 


158  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

stay  a  spell ;  she  's  so  beat  out  since  father 
died." 

"  She  must  write  to  me  while  she  's  gone," 
suggests  Corona,  gently.  "  I  hope  you  are 
a  great  comfort  to  your  mother,  Zero." 

"Ma'am?" 

"  I  hope  you  are  a  comfort  to  your  poor 
mother." 

"  I  have  a  sight  of  errants  to  run  for  the 
boarders,"  replies  Zero,  reflectively. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  be  ?  "  continues 
Corona,  with  a  brisk,  inspiring  air. 

"  Ma'am  ?  " 

"  Be  !     What  will  you  be,  Zero  ?  " 

"  Dunno." 

"  Have  you  never  thought  ?  Have  you 
no  plans,  Zero  ?  " 

"  Guess  I  shall  jest  stay  round,"  says 
Zero,  looking  puzzled.  "  The  other  fellers 
do." 

"  I  hope  you  were  not  one  of  the  '  fel 
lers  '  who  hooted  and  howled  so  at  Matthew 
Laimcelot,  the  other  day,  when  I  took  him 
to  the  post-office,"  observes  Mary,  rather 
primly.  "  They  were  not  polite." 


ZERO.  159 

"  The  boys  of  the  sea-shore  have  been 
celebrated  for  their  lack  of  repose  in  man 
ner  ever  since  the  days  of  Homer,"  replies 
Corona.  "  You  '11  find  them  hooting  and 
Howling  just  so  in  the  Iliad  —  or  the  Odyssey 
• — it  does  n't  matter.  Tom  told  me.  Come, 
Zero,  tell  us.  Don't  you  feel  any  ambi 
tion  to  learn  a  trade  or  —  anything  ?  It  is 
a  wretched  life  the  boys  live  in  Fairharbor, 
learning  principally  how  to  get  drunk  or 
drowned  !  "  adds  Corona,  with  some  excite 
ment. 

She  looks  at  Zero's  incurious,  quiet  face, 
with  the  home-clinging  in  the  eyes  that 
she  has  learned  to  read  so  well  —  a  fatal 
look.  It  would  never  let  him  go  where  he 
could  not  get  back  to  Fairharbor  at  night, 
if  he  could  help  it.  She  feels  sorry  for  the 
little  fellow  ;  the  more  so  when  he  replies, 
with  a  certain  dull  dignity  :  — 

"  I  never  got  drunk." 

"  I  know  some  boarder  boys  call  us  dock- 
rats,"  adds  Zero,  after  a  pause. 

"  That  is  impolite,  too  ;  that  is  very  im 
polite." 


160  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

"  So  I  told  'em.  It  did  n't  make  any  odds. 
They  '11  go  away  pretty  soon.  /  went  away 
last  week.  I  went  to  Dove's  Cote.  I  was 
glad  to  get  back.  I  guess  if  I  should  go  to 
Boston  I  should  be  homesick.  I  'm  used  to 
—  fishes/'  adds  Zero,  thoughtfully. 

"  Do  you  go  to  school,  Zero  ?  "  asks  Mary. 

"  Winters." 

"  To  church  ?  " 

"  Baptis'.     We  're  mostly  Baptises  here." 

"  If  I  lend  you  some  books,  Zero,  to  read 
this  winter,  should  you  like  them  ?  " 

u  Guess  I  shall  go  haddockin'  this  winter. 
Somebody  's  got  to,  now  father  can't." 

"  You're  a  little  fellow  to  go  haddocking 
in  the  winter." 

"  I  'm  eleven.  I  know  a  chap  went  when 
he  was  eight.  He  got  drownded." 

"  Now,  if  anybody  helped  you,  would  you 
rather  not  be  anything  but  a  fisherman  ?  " 

"  My  father  was  a  fisherman,"  replies 
Zero,  with  that  same  dull  dignity. 

"So  was  St,  John/'  suggests  Corona,  in  n 
Tow  voice. 


ZERO.  161 

"  Besides/'  adds  Zero,  returning  obsti 
nately  to  his  first  proposition,  "  I  'm  used  to 
fishes." 

"  Will  you  write  to  Mother  when  she  's 
Down  East,  as  you  said  ?  "  asks  Zero,  pres 
ently,  looking  over  his  shoulder  to  snap  the 
last  orange  snail  into  the  rising  tide.  "  She  's 
so  beat  out.  She  can't  lift  the  dishwater. 
I  have  to  heave  it  away  for  her  myself.  I 
guess  she  '11  write  to  you,  if  you  want  her 
to.  I  'm  afraid  she  may  be  homesick.  She 
ain't  used  to  Down  East." 

Corona  watches  the  boy  silently  as  he 
lounges  away.  He  seems  to  her  as  truly  a 
sea  creature  as  the  snail  he  has  left  floating 
on  the  tide  at  her  feet;  a  soul  grown  into  a 
shell. 

And  Mary,  leaning  over  to  look  into  a 
little  pool  in  the  rock  where  a  star-fish  has 
got  trapped,  and  lies  palpitating  and  purple 
beneath  a  bit  of  broad  green  weed,  with  a 
barnacle  or  two  and  a  bead  of  brown  kelp, 
wonders  idly  if  Deronda  would  have  set 
Gwendolen  to  anything  of  this  sort  when 


11 


162  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

he  talked  to  her  about  "  the  religious  life." 
To  Deronda,  religion  meant  Jews.  Mary 
remembers  that  to  somebody  it  must  mean 
boys. 

But  Mrs.  Rowin,  going  Down  East,  writes 
to  Corona,  as  she  has  promised.  She  says 
Zero  is  a  good  boy,  and  she  never  heard 
him  swear.  She  says  she  sends  him  to  the 
Sunday-school.  She  says  they  are  so  poor 
he  must  go  haddocking  this  winter.  She 
speaks  of  his  father  and  of  their  affliction. 
She  spells  "  Husband,"  poor  soul !  with  a 
capital,  and  "  god  "  with  a  little  g. 


XI. 

THE  SERPENT. 

THERE  was  never  an  Eden  without  him. 
And  he  had  come.  I  wish  it  distinctly  un 
derstood  that  I  do  not  mean  the  sea-serpent. 
Nobody  could  be  missed  with  more  hearti 
ness  and  less  reserve  than  Elf;  yet  since 
she  had  gone,  and  Mary  and  Corona  had 
resumed  their  placid  tete-a-ttte  in  Paradise, 
they  were  very  happy.  At  least,  Corona 
thought  they  were. 

One  soft  September  morning  she  came 
home  from  the  post-office,  and  found  a 
brown  young  man  in  her  gray  parlor.  He 
was  very  brown,  having  been,  as  Mary  has 
tened  to  explain,  yachting  on  the  Maine 
coast  all  summer,  and  now,  on  his  return 
home  to  Brooklyn,  thought  he  would  stop 
over  a  train  or  so  at  Fairharbor.  It  oc- 


164  AN   OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

curred  to  Corona  that  Fairharbor  was  not 
mmediately  upon  the  route  between  Maine 
and  Brooklyn  ;  but  she  made  no  remarks  to 
this  effect.  Mary  wore  her  white  flannel 
sea-dress,  and  a  sensitive  flush  upon  either 
cheek.  She  begged  Corona  to  stay  and 
hear  Mr.  Sinuous's  account  of  the  chowder 
he  got  at  Mt.  Desert. 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Sinuous.  "We  call  it 
cod-tea  down  there." 

Corona,  having  treated  the  subject  of 
chowder  in  every  form  which  presented 
itself  to  her  imagination,  until  aware  that 
she  was  exhausting  it  by  an  air-pump  of 
double  pressure,  left  Mary  and  the  Serpent 
together,  and  wandered  thoughtfully  out 
upon  the  rocks. 

Puelvir  saw  her,  and  put  her  head 
through  the  kitchen  window. 

"  Goin'  to  keep  him  for  dinner,  Miss 
Corona?" 

"  Yes,  Puelvir." 

"  We  hain't  got  nothin'  but  hash  and 
tomnytoes." 


THE  SERPENT.  165 

"Never  mind,  Puelvir." 

"  I  s'pose  I  could  stir  up  a  pudding  if  it 
was  n't  ironin'." 

"  Very  well,  Puelvir." 

Puelvir  hesitated  before  resuming  :  — 

"  Brother  of  her'n  ?  " 

"Oh!  no." 

"  Any  relation  ?  " 

"  I  believe  not,  Puelvir." 

"  Hm — m.     M — m — in/'  said  Puelvir. 

"I  think/'  said  Corona,  severely,  "you 
had  better  make  the  pudding,  Puelvir." 

"I'll  leave  something  out,  if  you  say  so," 
replied  Puelvir.  "  I  '11  leave  out  something 
and  spoil  it,  so  he  won't  want  to  come 
again." 

The  Serpent  stayed  to  dinner.  Despite 
Puelvir's  noble  intentions  as  to  her  pudding, 
he  stayed  to  tea.  He  expressed  himself  so 
much  pleased  with  Fairharbor  (and  the 
pudding)  that  he  thought  he  should  spend 
a  few  days  at  the  hotel.  Corona,  with  the 
soul  of  sweetness  in  her  smile  and  the  ashes 
of  bitterness  in  her  heart,  replied  that  she 


166  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

hoped  he  would.  But  Mary  did  not  reply 
at  all. 

Mr.  Sinuous  came  to  tea  also  the  follow 
ing  day,  having  arranged  to  take  the  ladies 
sailing.  Puelvir  put  on  turned  preserves, 
and  let  her  biscuit  fall.  But  Mr.  Sinuous, 
nothing  daunted,  came  to  breakfast  next 
morning.  It  was  a  disappointment  to  Puel 
vir  that  the  pop-overs  were  light  as  silver 
clouds. 

Only  one  lady  went  sailing  that  day. 
The  other  sat  at  home  alone. 

It  was  that  evening  and  quite  late,  when, 
having  bidden  the  brown  young  man  good 
night  upon  the  piazza,  in  the  dim  half-light 
that  fell  out  from  the  little  silent  house, 
Mary  came  to  Corona's  room,  and  began  at 
once  :  — 

"  I  have  exiled  you,  dear  —  driven  up 
here  alone.  It  is  too  bad.  Come  down. 
I  want  to  talk  with  you.  I  think  —  I  believe 
I  must  go  home  next  week.  You  know  I 
meant  to  go  week  after.  It  won't  make 
much  difference  —  such  a  little  while." 


THE  SERPENT.  167 

She  put  out  her  hand  like  a  child  who 
deprecates  a  scolding.  Corona  took  it  in 
silence,  and  in  silence  the  two  groped  down 
the  steep,  dark  cottage  stairs. 

A  shimmer  of  many  colors  filled  the  par 
lor  and  dining-room,  falling  from  the  Jap 
anese  shades  and  tinted  candles  with  which 
Corona  loved  to  make  her  evening  gay. 
Mary,  in  her  white  dress,  stood  among  these 
broken  lights,  resplendent.  Her  cheeks  were 
burning  ;  but  her  eyes  were  soft  and  clear. 

"  Mother  will  be  expecting  me,"  she  be 
gan,  hesitating.  "  And  —  it 's  a  long  journey 
to  Brooklyn  —  to  take  alone.  Mr.  Sinuous 
has  got  to  go  next  week.  He  thought  it 
would  be  pleasanter  for  me  to  have  com 
pany.  I "  — 

Mary  stopped  ;  but  Corona  said  :  — 

"  I  have  only  one  thing  to  say,  Mollie. 
You  might  have  told  me  before,  I  think." 

"  But,  Corona,  I  had  n't  anything  to  tell 
—  till  now,"  cried  Mary,  lifting  her  head. 

"  We  were  pretty  old  friends,"  returned 
Corona,  slowly. 


168  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

"  If  there  's  anything  I  hate/'  continued 
Mary,  "  it  is  women  who  talk  about  such 
things  beforehand/' 

"  Kiss  me,  Mary/'  said  Corona.  "  You 
are  right." 

"  If  you  'd  asked  me  last  week/'  proceed 
ed  Mary,  "  I  should  have  told  you  I  never 
meant  to  be  married.  Never.  Why,  Co,  I 
thought  he  was  flirting  with  Net  Sibley, 
down  at  Mt.  Desert,  this  summer  long.  I 
did,  indeed  !  " 

Those  last  few  flushed  September  days 
passed  swiftly.  Corona,  indeed,  was  not 
sorry  when  they  were  over.  She  had  lost 
Mary.  It  was  as  well  to  lose  the  Serpent 
too. 

Yet  she  felt  a  certain  proud  pleasure  in  it 
all,  as  she  sat  alone  so  many  hours,  turned 
out  of  her  parlor,  her  piazza,  off  from  her 
bowlder  and  her  shadow  on  the  afternoon 
side  of  the  house.  She  was  glad  to  have 
happier  eyes  than  hers  watch  the  clovers 
grow  under  the  cottage.  And  the  clovers 
were  brown  now,  too.  She  was  glad  to  have 


THE   SERPENT.  169 

lovers  in  her  house — once,  at  least,  and  this 
first  summer.  It  seemed  to  her  just  the 
baptism  that  her  home  had  lacked.  It  was 
no  longer  a  pale  and  solitary  thing.  It 
was  henceforth  linked  to  all  humanity.  It 
had  experience  and  memories. 

She  said  "  God  bless  you  !  "  when  Mary 
went  away  ;  but  nothing  more.  She  could 
not  talk.  And  Mary  went  from  Corona's 
Eden  to  her  own,  leaning  on  the  Serpent's 
arm. 

Matthew  Launcelot,  who  had  cordially 
disapproved  of  the  Serpent  from  the  outset, 
and  had  made  no  secret  of  his  prejudice, 
stationed  himself  upon  the  big  bowlder,  and 
howled  savagely  at  the  omnibus  till  it  was 
out  of  sight,  when,  in  the  violence  of  his 
emotions  at  having  nothing  left  to  bark 
at,  he  tumbled  off  the  rock,  and  sprained 
his  ankle ;  which  Puelvir  bound  up,  with  the 
ambiguous  remark  that  she  wished  it  had 
been  his'n.  Would  n't  she  have  bandaged 
it  in  red  pepper  or  something  scalt ! 

It  was  not  long   after  Mary's   departure 


170  AN   OLD   MAID'S  PARADISE. 

that  Corona  had  a  very  restless  night.  Pos 
sibly  it  was  owing  to  the  sense  of  renewed 
solitude,  which  sat  like  an  uninvited  guest 
within  her  silent  rooms  ;  but  Paradise 
seemed  to  her  strained  ears  to  be  beset  by 
strange,  uncanny  sounds.  She  bade  Puelvir 
double  lock  the  doors,  and  herself  bolted 
the  parlor  windows  four  several  times 
apiece.  She  kept  a  light  burning  on  the 
stairs,  and  noticed  where  the  carving-knife 
was  left,  and  brought  up  the  dinner-bell 
where  it  would  be  available,  and  cocked 
her  Smith  &  Wesson,  which  lay  upon  the 
blue  table  by  the  blue  bed.  She  slept  with 
difficulty,  waking  often. 

A  great  many  things  happened  to  disturb 
her.  First  cats.  Then  the  tide.  After 
that,  the  wind.  Cats  again.  The  fog-horn; 
breakers  ;  a  party  at  the  hotel.  More  cats. 
Then  a  mouse  (the  first  one)  got  into  the 
new  house,  and  nibbled  somewhere  very 
neatly.  Then  there  was  a  creak  in  the 
blinds ;  a  squeak  in  the  window ;  horses  in 
a  barn  ;  people  on  the  beach  ;  semi-distant 


THE   SERPENT.  171 

dogs ;  mosquitoes ;  and  another  cat.  A 
while  after  this  came  a  variety.  Something 
breathed  beneath  her  window. 

Corona  spent  some  time  over  this  form  of 
midnight  amusement,  leaning  anxious  and 
idiotic  over  the  sill,  uncertain  whether  to 
ring  the  pistol,  sharpen  the  dinner-bell,  or 
fire  the  carving-knife,  and  naively  taking 
comfort  in  the  fact  that  Matthew  Launcelot 
slept  like  the  useful  dead,  and  was  not  at  all 
disturbed  by  the  emergency.  When,  at 
last,  she  had  discovered  that  the  house  was 
surrounded  by  those  picturesque  cattle  from 
the  hill  pasture  ;  and  when  she  and  Puelvir 
had  set  forth,  attired  in  a  wrapper  and  a 
lantern,  and  waded  rheumatically  about  in 
their  rubber  boots  through  the  long,  dew- 
laden  grass,  to  drive  the  intruders  off ;  when 
the  horses  had  baulked  at  them,  and  the 
cows  had  hooked  at  them,  and  the  whole 
"effect"  becoming  obstinate,  Corona  had, 
at  length,  driven  the  entire  drove  at  the 
point  of  her  carving-knife  into  the  corn 
field,  and  left  them  there  ;  when  the  two 


172  AN  OLD   MAID'S   PARADISE. 

women,  feeling  cold,  and  lame,  and  silly, 
and  sleepless,  and  of  none  too  sweet  a  tem 
per,  had  really  fallen  into  the  heavy  rest 
which  overtakes  a  disturbed,  escaping  night 
—  it  was  then  that  there  sharply  fell  upon 
their  dreaming  ears,  unmistakable  and  un 
merciful,  the  low  accents  of  a  human  voice. 

Corona  grasped  her  pistol  with  curdling 
blood.  Puelvir  ran  in.  Matthew  Launcelot 
awaked  with  an  evident  consciousness  of 
having  been  the  first  to  warn  the  household, 
and,  with  an  extreme  air  of  masculine 
superiority,  howled  thunderously  between 
the  two  women  and  the  windows.  Every 
hair  on  Matthew's  tiny  head  and  shoulders 
seemed  to  say  :  "  Don't  fear,  my  dears.  1 
am  here." 

"  It  is  very  singular,"  said  Corona ;  "  but 
the  sound  does  n't  stop.  Listen,  Puelvir  ! 
The  more  the  dog  yaps,  the  more  noise  the 
man  makes.  It  must  be  some  lunatic,  I  fear, 
Puelvir,  or  a  drunken  sailor.  Hark  !  He 
makes  the  worse  noise  of  the  two." 

"Well,  I  don't  know   about   that"  said 


THE   SERPENT.  173 

Puelvir,  with  some  show  of  feeling,  which 
struck  her  mistress  at  the  moment  as  more 
or  less  misplaced. 

"  I  'm  going  to  shoot,"  said  Corona, 
trembling  very  much.  She  placed  her 
shining  Smith  &  Wesson,  with  a  shudder,  on 
the  sill.  Matthew  Launcelot  put  his  cold, 
inquiring  nose  upon  the  trigger ;  then,  not 
being  satisfied,  smelt  of  the  muzzle  with  a 
scientific  manner.  Puelvir  drew  in  her 
mistress*  hand,  with  a  sharp  exclamation  : 

"  You  '11  kill  the  dog  !  Not  to  say  nothin' 
of  him!  Put  up  that  pistol,  Miss  Corona, 
do,  and  get  to  bed.  Two  women-folks  here 
in  their  night-gownds  !  Whatever  will  he 
think  of  us  !  " 

"  Think  of  us  !  He ! "  cried  Corona, 
in  dismay.  "  Puelvir,  I  insist  upon  an  ex 
planation.  If  you  're  in  league  with  a  band 
of  burglars  to  murder  me,  I  request  that 
you  say  so  at  once,  Puelvir.  The  dinner- 
bell  is  left.  I  can  rouse  the  neighbors. 
Ican"- 

"  Oh  !  there,"  interrupted  Puelvir,  "don't. 


174  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

I  'm  sorry  you  're  so  scart ;  but  I  guess  it 's 
only  a  serenade.  I  would  n't  shoot,  if  I  was 
you.  Hush  !  Don't  you  hear  ?  He  's  singin' 
6  In  the  Sweet.'  It 's  a  nice  thing  for  a  ser 
enade,  I  think.  Don't  you  ?  4  In  the  Sweet.' " 

In  truth,  as  Puelvir  spoke,  the  mournful 
melody  of  the  "  Sweet  By  and  By,"  sung  by 
a  more  or  less  accidentally  bass  voice,  lacer 
ated  the  midnight  air. 

"  I  know  no  one,"  replied  Corona,  severely, 
and  still  unrelieved.  "  No  one  would  sing 
the  '  Sweet  By  and  By '  to  serenade  me." 

"  Land,  ma'am,"  said  Puelvir,  "I  didn't 
say  it  was  you" 

For  one  swift  moment  there  in  the  dark, 
the  blushes  of  a  not  unbeautiful  pride  com 
mon  to  her  sex  under  certain  circumstances 
mantled  Puelvir's  gaunt  cheek.  Puelvir 
was  a  woman.  She  felt  just  then  that  she 
was  superior  to  her  mistress,  who  had  no 
serenades. 

"  I  think,"  added  Puelvir,  more  meekly, 
"  it  must  be  the  Raspberry  Man.  He  said 
he  should ;  but  I  did  n't  expect  him  to- 


THE   SERPENT.  175 

night.  He  said  I  'd  know  him  by  ' In  the 
Sweet.'  I  '11  get  some  close  on,  and  go  an' 
tell  him  he  is  botherin'  us.  You  jest  go  to 
bed.  I'll  manage  him." 

"  I  would  n't  hurt  his  feelings,"  said  Co 
rona,  more  gently  too,  but  with  a  nameless 
terror  at  her  heart. 

"  His  feelin's  !  "  replied  Puelvir,  scorn 
fully,  as  she  went  out  of  the  room,  followed 
expressively  by  Matthew  Launcelot,  breath 
ing  vengeance. 

All  that  passed  between  Puelvir  and  her 
serenader  is  not  known  to  the  compiler  of 
this  record.  But  certain  it  is  that,  after  a 
brief  consultation  (very  much  assisted  in 
intensity  by  Matthew  Launcelot)  between 
the  back  doorstep  and  the  maroon-and- 
indigo  curtains,  the  sounds  of  "In  the 
Sweet "  died  away,  and  the  departing  foot 
steps  of  the  Raspberry  Man  left  Paradise  to 
silence,  to  safety,  and  to  sleep. 

But  Corona  lay  long  with  her  wakeful 
eyes  fixed  upon  the  headlights  of  the 
anchored  ships,  and  on  the  stars  above  the 


176  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

Bay.  It  seemed  to  her  that  the  stars  were 
falling,  and  that  the  lights  were  dim.  Among 
the  more  harrowing  afflictions  of  this  un 
certain  life,  where  shall  we  find  one  striking 
deeper  roots  into  the  soul  than  the  prospect, 
especially  tlae  first  prospect  of  having  your 
cook  get  married  ? 

"  It  is  of  no  use,"  thought  Corona,  with  a 
bitterness  which  only  a  novice  both  at  life 
and  at  householding  can  remember  how  to 
understand.  "  I  agree  with  the  great  man 
who,  dying,  said  that  life  was  all  a  mistake, 
and  never  worth  the  candle.  The  world  is 
not  made  for  solitary  people.  It  is  of  no 
use  to  be  an  old  maid,  unless  other  persons 
will  be  old  maids  too.  There  ought  to  be 
a  law  made  forbidding  a  woman  to  marry 
after  she  is  thirty-five." 

But  in  the  morning,  when  she  came  down, 
looking  rather  pale,  Puelvir  watched  her 
scrutinizingly,  and  said  :  "  Beef- tea  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,  Puelvir.     I  'm  not  sick." 

"A  mite  of  cocoa,  or  cream  to  your  oat 
meal  ?  Or  would  you  rather  I  'd  scrambled 


THE    SERPENT.  177 

the  eggs  ?  You  looked  peaked.  Mebbe  a 
little  raspberry  vin  " — 

But  the  word  raspberry  had  such  over 
whelming  associations  for  both  mistress  and 
maid  that  Puelvir  stopped. 

"  I  hope,"  began  Corona,  "  that  you  will 
be  happy,  Puelvir,  if  you  ever  should  find 
it  necessary  to  leave  me  ;  but  " — 

"  Land  !  "  said  Puelvir.  "  Is  that  it  ? 
Land f  " 

Puelvir  was  silent  for  some  moments. 
Her  emotions  seemed  too  intense  to  permit 
of  calm  or  connected  speech.  After  a  time 
she  came  round  in  front  of  her  mistress, 
standing  with  the  water-pitcher  abstractedly 
held  at  arm's  length,  and  performing  as  she 
spoke  a  series  of  gymnastic  exercises  with 
it,  as  if  it  were  dumb-bells,  and  said,  with 
great  vigor :  — 

'•'  I  should  wish  to  tell  you,  Miss  Corona, 
I  ain't  a  deef-and-dumb  gone  fool  yit.  No 
knowin'  what  I  '11  come  to  'fore  I  'm  under 
ground.  Nobody  knows.  It  is  with  men- 
folks  and  women-folks  as  it  is  with  measles 
12 


178  AN  OLD  MAID'S   PARADISE. 

or  the  mumps.  Nobody  knows  when 
they  '11  catch  it.  It  ain't  safe  for  nobody  to 
say  no  thin'  about  an  affliction  that  the  Lord 
as  made  us  sees  fit,  in  his  mysterious  provi 
dence,  to  send  upon  us  when  least  we  looks 
for  it.  May  his  will  be  done !  " 

Too  free  a  use  of  the  instinct  of  gesture 
set  the  contents  of  the  water-pitcher  into 
active  ebullition  over  Corona's  fresh  morn 
ing-dress  ;  but  Puelvir  was  too  much  in 
earnest  and  her  mistress  too  much  relieved 
to  notice  the  little  dabs  and  splashes,  cas 
cades  and  rills  that  emphasized  Puelvir's 
punctuation.  What  was  a  spoiled  cambric 
against  a  Paradise  Preserved  ? 

"  So  far  's  he  Js  in  count,"  continued  Puel 
vir,  "  I  settled  him  last  night." 

"Last  night!"  cried  Corona,  touched, 
despite  herself,  by  the  inhumanity  of  this 
unexpected  proceeding.  "  When  he  had 
come  —  so  far  —  to  serenade  you,  Puelvir  ?  " 

"  Land  !  yes,"  proceeded  Puelvir.  "  I  set 
behind  the  curtain,  the  indigo  one,  and  he 
did  n't  see  me ;  though  I  did  have  my 


THE  SERPENT.  179 

blanket  shawl  on  over  my  night-gownd,  if 
he  had.  So  's  it  was  proper  enough,  for  the 
matter  of  that.  You  need  n't  worry.  I 
don't  see  's  the  serenade  made  the  odds. 
If  he  'd  only  sang  '  In  the  Sweet/  and  gone 
off  pacified,  I  should  have  thought  more  on 
him.  I  'm  partial  to  music,  especially  by 
the  water.  But  seein'  he  had  to  up  and 
perpose  —  under  them  circumstances  —  I 
told  him  I'd  signed  a  contract  to  do  for 
you  for  ten  years." 

«  Pue/vir  !  " 

"  Well,  I  did.  I  don't  call  that  anything 
out  the  way.  A  woman  has  to  make  up 
something  to  pacify  a  man.  They  'd  never 
swaller  the  truth.  Land  !  Did  you  ever 
see  a  man  that  would  believe  it  if  a  woman 
told  him  it  was  him  she  did  n't  want  ?  Be 
sides,  I  knew  he  would  n't  think  of  offerin* 
to  wait  ten  years.  I  thought  I'd  put  it 
high.  He  's  a  widderer,  with  seven  chil 
dren,  mostly  small.  I  knew  he  couldn't 
wait,  so  I  said  you  would  n't  let  me  off." 

"  I  said  I  was  sorry,"  added  Puelvir,  in  a 


180  AN   OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

polite  tone,  with  a  generous  flourish  of  the 
pitcher,  that  sent  the  water  gurgling  unre- 
proved  down  Corona's  happy  neck.  "  And  I 
advised  him  to  go  hunt  up  a  girl  I  'd  heard 
of  down  to  the  Point,  that 's  partial  to  wid- 
derers  —  been  promised  to  two  already. 
He  said  he  sd  think  of  it.  But  he  said," 
continued  Puelvir,  "  his  feelings  would  com 
pel  him  not  to  do  business  this  way  at 
present,  and  the  butcher  hain't  only  onions. 
It  11  make  it  bad  about  berries  for  a  spell." 


XII. 

THE   FLAMING    SWOED. 

SEPTEMBER  lingers  fondly  about  the  Old 
Maid's  Paradise.  Watching  its  departure 
is  like  watching  the  parting  between  friends 
whose  feeling  for  one  another  partakes 
somewhat  of  the  nature  of  love,  while  yet 
retaining  the  finer  essence  and  calmer  poise 
of  friendship.  September  lingers  ;  but  he 
must  be  gone.  So,  too,  must  the  chance 
guests  whom  the  dwellers  by  the  sea  re 
ceive  and  lose  in  these  thoughtful  days. 
Outside  in  the  wide  world,  fall  sewing  and 
October  coupons  beckon  alike  imperiously. 
There  are  children  brown  from  the  beaches, 
to  be  turned  white  in  school.  There  are 
flirtations  broken  off  at  Conway,  to  be  re 
newed  in  Boston.  And  if  one  belongs  to  a 
Club  for  the  Comparison  of  Coptic  and 


182  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

Arizonian  Metres,  it  is  time  to  hasten  home 
and  prepare  the  essay  for  the  opening  ses 
sion.  Or  if  one  is  president  of  the  Society 
for  the  Encouragement  of  Beggars,  one 
must  draw  up  the  schedule  for  the  winter's 
work.  The  world,  in  fact,  is  busy.  It  can 
row  and  sail,  it  can  climb  and  stroll,  it  can 
sleep  and  sing,  it  can  swim  and  rest,  it  can 
drift  and  dream  no  more. 

But  down  here  at  Fairharbor  there  is  no 
world  to  molest  or  to  make  afraid.  Sum 
mer  tarries,  and  the  low  east  wind,  like  a 
mature  and  charming  woman,  is  both  sweet 
and  strong.  The  water  is  clear,  wind 
swept,  and  wonderful.  The  tide  beats  full 
and  high,  like  the  pulse  of  that  apparently 
abounding  health  that  sometimes  precedes 
a  sudden  onset  of  disease.  But  disease, 
death,  decay  —  what  mean  they  ?  One 
thinks  of  the  words  now  with  an  idle 
skepticism.  We  will  bask  and  bathe  in  the 
sun  upon  the  warm  red  rocks,  while  straight 
the  ozone  beats  into  our  faces  from  the 
almighty  sea. 


THE  FLAMING   SWORD.  183 

And  now  Corona  closely  treasures  every 
expression  that  flits  across  the  forehead  of 
the  Harbor  and  the  engirdling  shore.  Yes 
terday  the  wave  was  brown,  purple  to-day ; 
gray  now,  and  gold  within  an  hour.  This 
morning  the  leaves  of  the  nasturtium  on  the 
piazza  curled  and  dropped.  Monday  the 
field  was  green  and  kindly  yet.  To-day 
the  last  wild  rose  burns  on  the  bowlder, 
and  Puelvir  brings  it  from  the  thicket 
where  it  hid.  It  is  a  tiny  blossom,  deepen 
ing  in  color,  feverish  with  its  late  life,  and 
delicate  as  a  distant  rose-red  star. 

One  day  —  it  seems  not  an  hour  after  — 
Corona  wakes  and  looks  abroad,  and  says: 

"  Oh  !  the  golden-rod  has  come." 

"  Be'n  here  weeks,"  says  Puelvir. 

But  Corona  repeats,  dreamily,  — 

"  The  golden-rod  is  here  !  " 

And  she  has  never  seen  it ;  never  with 
the  soul's  eyes.  Now  and  then,  it  may  be, 
strolling  up  from  the  surf,  or  straying  to 
find  yellow  snail-shells  in  the  hot  noon  till 
the  bathing-dress  is  dry,  she  has  been 


184  AN  OLD  MAID'S   PARADISE. 

aware  of  a  color  like  spilled  gold  coin  in 
the  clefts  and  crevices  of  the  rocks,  and 
idly  said  :  "  Oh  !  golden-rod."  But  never 
till  this  moment :  "  The  golden-rod  is  here" 

"  For  Kilmeny  had  been  she  knew  not  where, 
And  Kilmeny  had  seen  what  she  could  not  declare." 

Now,  as  she  looks  across  the  ripened  land, 
an  unseen  hand  has  struck  and  changed 
its  complexion.  It  is  like  looking  at  the 
same  scene  through  glass  of  differing  tints. 
Now,  indeed,  the  wild  briar  and  the  rose 
blush  have  vanished ;  the  little  asters  hide, 
pale  and  purple,  in  shy  places ;  but  the  au 
tumn  dandelions  stand  in  confident  groups, 
and  the  golden-rod  is  an  army,  plumed  and 
proud.  The  shore  glitters  beneath  the 
flowers,  and  the  sea  beneath  the  sun. 

Corona  steps  out  slowly,  and  breaks  a 
spray  of  the  sad,  significant  thing.  It  has 
a  swift  curve  and  a  dazzling  glare.  She 
holds  it  for  an  instant  with  fingers  that 
tremble  a  little,  flings  it  down,  and  turns 
away.  She  has  seen  the  Sword  of  Flame. 
After  Paradise  comes  exile. 


THE  FLAMING   SWORD.  185 

*'•'  Don't  you  think,"  says  Puelvir,  coming 
out  and  picking  up  the  golden-rod,  "  I  'd 
better  have  Zero  boosted  up  into  that  loft, 
to  clear  it  out,  before  long  ?  If  you  should 
get  lonesome  and  want  to  go  sudden,  the 
house  had  oughter  be  left  slick.  He  's  light. 
He  '11  boost  easy." 

And  now,  when  Corona  comes  in  dreamy 
and  flushed  from  the  beach  or  the  bay,  the 
rock,  or  the  town,  or  returns  from  a  look  at 
Father  Morrison,  or  Jane  Thurston,  or  poor 
little  Mrs.  Rowin,  every  vein  pulsing  with 
kinship  to  the  sea  people  and  every  nerve 
tenacious  with  tenderness  for  the  sea,  she 
finds  Paradise  in  strange  distortion.  Usually 
Zero,  extinguished  as  to  the  head  and 
shoulders  and  very  sprawly  as  to  the  legs 
and  feet,  hangs  mysteriously  from  the  loft 
(which  grows  out  of  Puelvir's  ceiling), 
mainly  engaged,  it  seems,  in  throwing 
things  upon  the  floor,  for  Puelvir  to  pick 
up  and  put  back  again.  Failing  this,  he  is 
found,  to  Matthew  Launcelot's  vociferous 
disapproval,  chopping  codfish  in  the  wood- 


186  AN  OLD  MAW'S  PARADISE. 

shed  with  a  borrowed  hatchet.  Zero  has  a 
passion  for  this  last  occupation ;  in  fact,  it 
is  one  which  he  has  originated,  and  which 
he  considers  especially  helpful  to  the  polit 
ical  economy  of  Miss  Corona's  household. 
He  says,  if  she  don't  stay  much  longer,  it 
would  be  a  pity  to  buy  a  fresh  salt-fish  ;  and 
this  one  won't  be  so  hard  after  it  is  soaked. 
While  he  speaks,  Puelvir  comes  up  and 
says  she  has  n't  got  anything  for  dessert. 
It  seems  a  pity  to  be  doing  up  a  lot  of 
apple-sass  now. 

These  intimations  try  Corona  severely ; 
the  more  as  she  has  never  yet  expressed  the 
most  remote  intention  of  leaving  Paradise. 
Then,  too,  such  scenes  have  a  painful  flavor 
of  house-cleaning  about  them  •  and  Corona 
has  always  declared,  and  is  still  ready  to 
die  for  her  faith,  that  if  ever  she  had  a 
house  it  should  never  be  cleaned.  She  re 
treats  from  Zero  and  Puelvir,  betakes  her 
self  and  her  displeasure  to  the  "  Gull's 
Wing,"  and  rows  hard  for  two  long,  glitter 
ing,  ecstatic  hours.  The  tide  is  coming  in. 


THE  FLAMING  SWORD.  187 

The  Harbor  is  full.  It  seems  to  overflow 
with  life,  with  vigor,  and  with  the  secret  of 
existence,  which  it  knows  not  how  to  keep. 
She  puts  up  her  oars  and  drifts  in  the 
shadow  of  the  gray  old  town.  She  notes 
the  familiar  outline  of  each  sea -beaten 
home,  the  pulse  of  every  throbbing  wave. 
"  Every  drop  of  water,  every  grain  of 
sand "  in  the  old  place  grows  dear.  Her 
heart,  heavy  with  parting,  cries  out  to 
Fairharbor :  - — 

"  I  love  thy  rocks  and  rills  ! " 

One  day  she  proposes  to  Puelvir  that  they 
never  leave  at  all ;  put  clapboards  and  a 
furnace  into  Paradise,  or,  at  least,  a  good 
base-burner  and  fifty-cent  carpets,  and  stay 
all  winter ;  adding,  sadly,  — 

"  I  suppose  you  would  n't  be  happy, 
Puelvir  ?  " 

But  Puelvir  says,  with  a  loyal  sniff,  — 

"  An'  what  have  I  ever  done,  Miss  Co 
rona,  that  you  should  think  I  would  n't  stay 
by  ye?"  *. 

On  the  strength  of  this  devotion,  Corona 


188  AN  OLD  MAW'S  PARADISE. 

writes  to  Mr.  Timbers  to  inquire  the  cost 
of  clapboards ;  but  does  not  commit  herself 
irrevocably  as  yet  to  a  winter  in  Fairharbor. 
And  the  golden  days  glide  on,  and  their 
evenings  and  their  mornings  pale.  Now  at 
dawn  the  open  sea  takes  on  a  colder  coun 
tenance.  Now  at  the  early  sunset  colors  of 
steel  and  iron  and  of  ice  creep  in.  The 
winds  are  busy,  and  the  peach-basket  tum 
bles  over  with  its  load  of  wood  beside  the 
little  grate  in  the  little  gray  parlor  every 
day.  The  "  Gull's  Wing  "  tosses  feverishly 
at  her  moorings.  It  grows  too  wild  to  row. 
The  summer  people  melt  from  the  board 
ing-houses  like  a  late  March  snow,  and  the 
rocks  are  bare.  The  beach,  too,  is  silent. 
Scarlet  coats  of  little  children  tossing  up 
white  sand  have  vanished.  The  invalid 
lady  lies  no  more  upon  the  cliff,  beneath  the 
glowing  shadow  of  her  purple  silk  umbrella; 
and  the  Japanese  parasol  disappeared  some 
time  ago.  The  gossip  has  gone  from  the 
bovdgter,  where  she  used  to  sit  and  regale 
her  companions  (and  Corona)  with  the  full 


THE  FLAMING  SWORD.  189 

particulars  of  her  last  quarrel  with  the 
landlady,  who  gave  them  no  ice-cream,  on 
Sunday  noons.  On  moonlit  nights  the 
young  folks  no  longer  pace  the  beach  by 
jtwos.  Even  Zero  goes  to  school. 

One  day  Puelvir  says  that  the  ice-man 
thinks  they  '11  freeze  stiddy  enough  without 
him  now ;  and  that  the  fish-man  can't  come 
no  longer  for  one  customer.  In  vain  Corona 
suggests  that  one  customer  can  starve  as 
hard  as  twenty.  The  fish-man  shakes  his 
head,  and  is  going  into  the  coal  and  peat 
business  next  week.  Would  be  happy  to 
accommodate  her.  In  vain  Corona  urgently 
inquires  what  other  people  do  down  here 
for  fresh  fish  in  winter.  The  fish-man  tells 
her,  after  some  thought  (he  is  evidently  sur 
prised  by  the  question),  that  he  does  n't 
know ;  he  guesses  they  eat  it  salt.  And 
Corona  replies,  with  dignity,  that  the  lob 
ster-man  is  left. 

Daily  it  grows  quiet  in  Fairharbor.  It 
grows  very  quiet  in  Fairharbor.  Corona 
and  Puelvir  live  on  lobsters  and  the  scenery. 


190  AN   OLD  M AID'S  PARADISE. 

But  the  one  is  well  worth  the  other  for  a 
little  longer  yet.  Corona  defers  Mr.  Tim- 
bers  and  the  clapboards  at  present ;  but 
lingers  reluctant  still  and  loth.  How  shall 
she  leave  thee,  Paradise  ?  So  solemn  is  the 
dying  of  the  year  upon  this  barren  shore  ! 
So  gentle  will  the  Indian  summer  be,  when 
yet  the  waves  shall  show  their  burning 
hearts,  and  the  fisherman's  children  play 
once  more  in  sun-bonnets  upon  the  now 
cold,  recoiling  sand. 

"  If  only  we  could  all  wait  patiently," 
thinks  Corona,  "  past  the  first  frosts  of  our 
lives,  until  their  Indian  summers  come  !  " 

All  these  days  Tom  is  writing  begging 
letters ;  and  Susy  sends  word  that  the  baby 
will  not  know  her  when  she  comes.  But 
Corona  answers  them  that  the  sky  is  green 
to-day,  or  that  the  wave  is  royal  purple,  or 
that  the  tide  is  high ;  that  she  will  pick 
cranberries  with  Jane  Thurston,  or  stay  to 
bid  the  Rowin  boys  good-by.  They  must 
take  the  terrible  winter  voyages  now,  since 
they  left  their  father  at  the  Banks.  The 


THE  FLAMING  SWORD.  191 

fewer  to  lose,  the  deeper  the  danger  into 
which  they  must  be  sent.  This  is  the  mys 
terious  law  of  life  to  the  women  of  Fair- 
harbor. 

But  by  and  by  there  comes  a  windy  Sun 
day.  It  is  a  most  memorable  day.  Puelvir 
goes  to  church,  where  she  is  spiritually 
benefited  by  learning  that  the  Kaspberry 
Man  has  married  a  widow  with  four,  and 
that  the  minister  asked  an  increase  of  his 
salary,  on  the  ground  that  the  price  of  fish 
in  Fairharbor  was  higher  than  in  any  place 
in  which  he  had  labored. 

But  Corona  stays  at  home,  with  her  Bible, 
her  Robertson,  Matthew  Launcelot,  her  open 
fire,  and  the  wind.  The  silence  of  the  cot 
tage  aches  under  the  tumult  without.  The 
Harbor  is  gray  and  cold.  Long  lines  and 
streaks  of  neutral  shadow  bar  it  off.  The 
foam  is  scanty  and  flat,  breaking  chiefly  on 
the  western  shore.  Rings  and  crowns  of 
light  lie  vibrating  outside  the  blue-gray 
gravity  of  the  channel.  Toward  the  beach 
a  subdued  green  of  three  distinct  shades 


192  AN  OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

blends  in.  This  green  is  chilly,  lightened 
with  white,  not  yellow.  Beds  of  brown 
weeds  lie  so  abundantly  and  so  softly  at 
half -tide  upon  the  sand  that  they  seem  to 
be  shadows.  The  horizon  throbs  with  sails. 
They  all  lean  southeasterly.  The  wind  is 
from  the  northward.  The  clouds  are  gray, 
with  silver  edges  but  watery  centres;  the 
horizon  watery  also,  pale  and  bluish.  The 
opposite  shore  is  slightly  hazy,  as  if  seen 
through  spray.  The  roof  of  one  house  — 
only  one  —  over  there,  catches  the  sun  and 
shines  sharply.  One  sail,  too,  a  black  one, 
glides  along  the  opaque  shadow  of  the  west 
ern  shore.  Corona  can  hear  the  rustling  of 
her  nearest  neighbor's  trees ;  but  the  little 
trees  out  upon  the  Point,  sheltered  she 
knows  not  how  or  why,  stand  still.  The 
grass  and  the  autumn  dandelions  blow 
fiercely. 

As  the  day  advances,  a  purple,  pinched 
look  grows  upon  the  lips  of  the  waves  that 
are  nearest  the  beach.  The  gulls,  the  sand 
pipers,  and  the  swallows  fly  restlessly  and 


THE  FLAMING   SWORD.  193 

without  apparent  aim.  The  dandelions 
seem  to  brace  themselves  against  the  full 
force  of  the  wind.  Sickened  leaves  hang 
from  the  flowerless  rose-bushes.  The  St. 
Johnswort  and  yarrow  have  faded ;  but  the 
nasturtiums  burn  on. 

Toward  evening  the  tide  grows  extremely 
low,  beaten  out  by  the  fierce  wind,  which 
rises  steadily  to  a  gale.  Shells  and  weeds 
are  thrown  up  profusely.  It  is  impossible 
to  walk  upon  the  beach.  All  over  the 
horizon  the  driven  sails  are  turning  in. 
They  will  soon  be  home. 

The  evening  falls,  and  the  tempest  of  the 
night  sets  in.  The  two  women  feel  small 
and  unsheltered  in  the  sturdy,  trembling 
little  house.  Puelvir  draws  the  curtains 
and  struggles  with  the  fire.  She  says  noth 
ing;  but  she  thinks  it  rather  lonesome  in 
Paradise  to-night.  Perhaps  Puelvir's  im 
agination  has  been  touched  slightly  by  the 
sight  of  the  widow  with  four.  She  betakes 
herself  to  her  room,  draws  her  maroon-and- 
indigo  curtains,  and  writes  to  a  cousin, 

13 


194  AN   OLD  MAID'S  PARADISE. 

whom  she  has  not  thought  of  twice  this 
summer.  She  wishes  she  had  a  sister  to 
write  to,  or  "some  folks."  She  thinks  it 
very  windy  out  to-night. 

Corona  sits  a  long  time  silent  by  the  fire,, 
watching  the  tender  struggle  between  the 
light  and  shade  upon  her  soft  gray  walls, 
listening  to  the  fiercer  battle  of  the  seasons 
out  upon  the  sea.  She  thinks :  It  will  still 
be  there.  Death,  change,  denial  touch  us 
all ;  sun  and  frost  will  burn  and  freeze  ;  the 
wind  raves  and  the  calm  comes ;  but  the 
sea  is  there. 

And,  with  a  sigh,  she  reaches  for  her  pen 
and  slowly  writes  :  — 

DEAE  TOM  :  —  It  will  take  a  week  to 
board  up  Paradise.  Expect  me  Saturday, 
at  seven.  Co. 

Matthew  Launcelot  comes  up  inquiringly, 
rather  than  inquisitively  (Matthew  never 
yields  to  the  lesser  motive),  and  puts  his 
nose,  cool  as  the  deprecation  of  hesitation 
or  regret,  upon  the  paper.  But  what  she 


THE  FLAMING  SWORD.  195 

has  written  she  has  written.  And  Tom's 
face  comes  before  her  with  a  sudden  passion 
of  longing  as  she  sits  alone.  She  kisses 
Matthew  Launcelot ;  but  she  says  "  Dear 
Tom."  For  Paradise,  like  the  Kingdom  of 
Heaven,  is  within  us,  after  all. 


PART  II. 
BUKGLAKS   IN  PAEADISE. 


BURGLARS   IN  PARADISE, 

— « — 

I. 

THE    RUMOR. 

IF  it  had  not  been  for  that  horse  — 

But  this  requires  explanation. 

Some  time  ago,  I  had  the  pleasure  of  re- 
cording  the  experience  of  a  single  and  singu 
lar  lady,  who  built  a  house  and  lived  in  it. 
To  any  reader  by  chance  acquainted  with 
those  records  no  introductory  words  will  now 
be  needed.  To  such  as  are  unfamiliar  with 
the  annals  of  "  The  Old  Maid's  Paradise  "  it 
may  be  necessary  to  say  that  they  concerned 
the  fortunes  of  a  family  of  two,  —  mistress 
and  maid.  I  mistake  ;  it  was  a  family  of 
three,  —  mistress,  maid,  and  dog.  They  were 
known  to  the  public  respectively  as  Corona, 


6  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

Puella  Virginia  (short,  Puelvir),  and  Matthew 
Launcelot. 

Corona's  house  was  a  matched-board  cot 
tage,  situated,  in  summer,  in  the  town  of 
Fairharbor,  on  the  sea-coast.  As  Corona 
spent  the  winters  with  her  brother's  family, 
she  carried  away  the  impression  that  her 
house  was  not  situated  anywhere  from  Octo 
ber  to  June.  The  poor,  desolate,  shuttered 
thing,  shivering  down  there  on  the  cliffs  in 
the  winter  nor' westers,  seemed  to  her  to  be 
blotted  off  the  map  by  the  first  snow-storm, 
along  with  the  wild  roses  and  the  golden-rod 
and  the  dandelion  ghosts,  and  the  sense  of 
having  one's  own  way,  and  paying  the  grocer 
for  the  privilege.  Corona  did  not  like  to 
think  about  her  house  when  she  was  out  of 
it ;  it  seemed  like  the  corpse  of  a  house,  like 
an  unburied  friend  :  it  made  her  sentimental. 
Her  house  was  the  only  thing  that  she  was 
known  to  be  sentimental  about. 

She  hurried  back  to  it  for  that  second  sea 
son  whose  history  it  will  be  the  effort  of  these 
columns  to  portray,  with  a  bounding  heart. 


THE  RUMOR.  7 

She  had  passed  the  bounding  years.  Life 
had  begun  to  take  steady  paces.  She  had 
some  time  since  ceased  to  expect  things,  and 
when  they  came  they  met  her  like  friends  in 
a  crowd  :  a  quick  hand  on  the  arm,  a  kin 
dling  eye,  a  sensitive  cry,  —  "  Why,  you  !  " 
-and  thus  she  had  her  surprise  for  her 
pains,  the  twofold  pleasure  of  not  hoping,  the 
ardent  comfort  that  comes  from  asking  noth 
ing  of  life  and  finding  something  when  you 
don't  look  for  it.  Corona  was  a  person  of 
"  ways."  This  was  one  of  her  ways ;  and 
she  found  it  a  very  good  one. 

So,  when  she  felt  that  old,  patiently  put-by 
pull  at  the  arterial  circulation,  which  comes 
of  deeply  wishing  for  a  thing  that  is  really 
going  to  happen,  Corona  experienced  some 
curiosity  over  the  psychological  phenomenon. 

"  I  did  not  expect  to  care  so  much,"  she 
said  to  Puelvir,  as  they  jounced  democratic 
ally  over  the  Fairharbor  streets  in  the  yellow 
omnibus.  Fairharbor  economizes  her  streets 
as  a  public  gymnasium.  The  great  ledges, 
worn  by  the  great  fish  teams,  and  innocent  of 


8  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

Mr.  McAdam's  ministrative  palliations,  exer 
cise  the  passengers  obviously.  Matthew  Laun- 
celot,  in  particular,  being  of  so  much  less 
weight  than  either  of  his  natural  protectors, 
performed  the  flying  trapeze  and  double  bar 
from  one  end  of  the  narrow,  dingy  red  velvet 
cushions  to  the  other,  at  irregular  intervals, 
with  an  air  of  wounded  dignity  which  lent 
pathos  to  the  occasion. 

"  Here,  I  '11  hold  ye,  if  I  've  got  to,"  said 
Puelvir. 

"  Did  you  speak  to  me  ?  "  asked  Corona, 
dreamily. 

Puelvir  had  not  noticed  the  psychological 
problem.  Whether  it  were  above  her  or  be 
neath  her,  who  could  say?  Mistress  and 
maid  were  fond  of  each  other ;  and  Corona 
was  used  to  these  little  lapses  in  the  line  of 
human  sympathy  which  come  of  solitary  liv 
ing  with  some  one  who  is  "  different."  She 
had  a  high  regard  for  Puelvir,  and  watched 
her  affectionately  as  she  gathered  Matthew 
Launcelot  into  her  generous  bosom. 

"  There,  there  !  "  said  Puelvir.  «  Do  set 
awhile,  if  there  's  any  set  in  you  !  " 


THE  RUMOR.  9 

"He  never  kisses  you/'  observed  Corona. 
"  And  he 's  so  fond  of  you,  too  !  I  wonder 
at  it." 

"  Kisses  me  !  "  cried  Puelvir.  "  Kisses 
me  !  Why,  I  'd  as  lief  be  kissed  by  live  men- 
folks  (for  aught  I  know)  as  by  dogs.  I  knew 
a  girl  once  set  in  a  man's  lap  while  they  was 
keepin'  company.  I  says  to  her,  '  I  don't  see 
what  you  want  to  do  it  FOR.  I  should  as 
soon  think  of  goin'  an'  settin'  on  the  mantel 
piece  !  '  I  've  trained  him,  you  better  be 
lieve,"  added  Puelvir.  "  I  used  to  snap  his 
nose  every  time  he  tried  it.  If  that  don't 
work,  I  sprinkle  him  with  a  little  vinegar. 
It 's  excellent.  They  soon  get  over  it." 

"  Who  get  over  it  ?  "  asked  Corona,  still 
in  her  dream.  Pronouns  were  never  Puelvir's 
strong  point.  It  took  a  while  to  get  used  to 
them. 

"  How  natural  it  dooz  look  down  here !  " 
observed  Puelvir,  as  the  omnibus  bobbed  and 
cannonaded  through  the  crooked  streets,  past 
the  dreary  wharves,  by  the  pungent  fish- 
flakes,  where  the  salt  cod  dried  in  the  sun 


10  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

and  swallowed  the  dust ;  down  past  widening 
glints  of  cleanness,  blueness,  coolness,  and  so, 
at  last,  to  the  bright  burst  of  the  sea.  "  I  al- 
wez  kinder  learn  to  like  a  place  by  the  signs ; 
don't  you,  Miss  Corona?  I  know  'em  by 
heart  down  here.  There  's  the  Labrador  Bak 
ery  !  See  ?  With  that  frecmtiful  view  he 
painted  on  his  cart.  Don't  you  remember  ? 
She  was  an  Injun  woman  settin'  on  a  nice- 
berg  ;  and  he  asked  a  cent  apiece  more  for 
his  muffins  because  he  had  to  pay  that  artist 
sech  a  price.  He  told  me  so.  There  's  one 
sign  I  feel  different  about  from  any  in  Fair- 
harbor.  It 's  '  T.  II.  Trader.  Boxes  and 
Shooks.''  I  could  n't  tell  why,  but  it  gives 
me  such  a  feeling.  I  never  feel  to  home  till 
I  see  it.  It's  comin'  this  minute.  See  it? 
Driving  on  that  there  cross-street  ?  (T.ff. 
Trader.  Boxes  and  Shooks.'  What  are 
shooks,  Miss  Corona  ?  You  've  lived  here 
longer  'n  I  have." 

Corona  shook  her  head.  She  had  spent 
six  summers  in  Fairharbor.  Six  hundred 
times,  had  she  perused  the  legend :  "  T.  H. 


THE  RUMOR.  11 

Trader.  Boxes  and  Shooks"  Never  had 
she  organized  an  inquiry  as  to  the  nature  or 
purpose  of  a  shook. 

66  A  modern  writer  has  said  women  have 
no  intellectual  initiative,  Puelvir." 

"Ma'am?"  said  Puelvir. 

As  the  two  women  approached  their  home 
with  this  stimulating  conversational  prelude, 
Corona's  heart  sank  a  little. 

"  Shall  I  lower  to  her  level  day  by  day  ?  " 
she  thought.  But  she  was  comforted  by  some 
fellow-passengers  in  the  omnibus.  They 
were  married  people  ;  they,  too,  were  coming 
to  their  summer  home  by  the  inspired  and  in 
spiring  sea  ;  they,  too,  had  talked  in  the  om 
nibus,  and  this  was  the  literal  transcript  of 
their  wedded  conversation  :  — 

(She.)  "  Harry,  where  's  my  shawl-strap  ? 
You  've  left  it  behind  !  " 

(He.)  "  It  is  under  your  feet,  my  dear. 
You  said  you  wanted  a  footstool,  the  omnibus 
jolted  so." 

"  I  '11  never  ride  in  this  omnibus  again,  if 
I  live  to  get  out  of  it !  Now,  Harry,  where 
is  my  sun-umbrella  ?  " 


12  BURGLARS   IN   PARADISE. 

"  Safely  strapped  up  with  my  cane,  Jenny." 

"  Well,  anyway,  you've  broken  the  pulsa- 
tilla  bottle.  I  knew  you  would  when  you  sat 
down  so  hard.  I  see  it  leaking  out  of  your 
coat  pocket  now.  I  shall  never  get  to  sleep 
without  it,  and  I  shall  have  to  send  you  back 
to  town  to  get  some  more." 

(He,  grimly,  under  his  mustache.)  "  I 
don't  doubt  you  will !  " 

"  What  did  you  say,  sir  ?  " 

(He,  promptly.)    "  I  did  n't  say  anything." 

"  I'm  sure  you  did.     You  can't  deny  it." 

"  I  do  deny  it.  We  have  n't  either  of  us 
said  anything  since  we  started.  Do  keep 
still.  That  lady  overhears." 

"  I  don't  care  who  hears.  I  insist  upon 
knowing.  Why,  here  's  the  pulsatilla  in  my 
hand-bag,  after  all  !  " 

Silence  succeeded. 

(She,  with  an  air  of  originality.)  "  How 
this  omnibus  does  rattle  !  " 

(He,  absently.)    "  Oh  !  —  very." 

"  Harry  !    What  a  hot  day  it  is  !  " 

(He,  patiently.)    "  Quite  hot." 


THE  RUMOR,  13 

(She.)    "  I  'm  tired  to  death  !  " 
(He.)    "  You  have  your  pulsatilla." 
"  Well,  /  sha'n't  sit  down  on  it  and  break 
it,  at  any  rate !  "     This  with  the  air  of  one 
who  has  made  a  strong  moral  point. 

"  Here  we  be,"  said  Puella  Virginia  at  last. 
66  He 's  left  my  hogshead  bottom  up'ards. 
Whatever  I  'm  to  do  for  water  come  o'  Mon 
day,  and  the  clothes-post 's  blowed  down,  and 
the  spare-room  blind  's  off.  The  roof  needs 
paintin'.  I  '11  bet  it  leaks.  The  coal-bin  ain't 
built,  and  all  Mis'  Rowin's  chickens  are  settin' 
on  your  front  piazza.  But,  thanks  to  mercy, 
she 's  washed  them  windows  !  and,  as  for  me, 
I've  got  home" 

The  maid  gave  a  happy,  boisterous  sigh 
that  went  to  the  mistress's  heart.  It  touched 
her  to  have  the  dependent  forget  her  depend 
ence.  And  that  all  the  home  she  had  to  offer, 
to  the  only  creature  to  whom  she  might  offer 
it,  should  be  dear  to  that  other  solitary  wo 
man  too,  —  this  was  a  pleasure.  Matched 
board  walls  and  a  cook  were  all  Corona  had. 
But  it  is  the  eternal  heimlichkeit  that  draws 
us  on. 


14  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

"  I  'm  glad  to  have  you  happy,  Puelvir 
dear/'  the  mistress  said.  She  had  never  called 
Puelvir  Dear  before.  If  she  was  served  the 
less  loyally,  or  with  the  less  respect  for  it 
thereafter,  these  records  know  it  not. 

She  flung  down  her  baggage,  anyhow,  with 
the  old  assured  confidence  in  Puelvir's  mater 
nal  capacity  for  "  picking  up,"  and  wandered 
through  the  house  with  a  consciousness  of 
girlish  abandonment  to  the  sensations  of  the 
moment.  To  speak  of  wandering  through  a 
house  twenty  feet  cube  in  proportions  may  be 
subject  to  criticism  in  matter  of  style  ;  but 
there  are  spaces  and  vistas  in  one's  own  home 
not  measurable  by  the  carpenter's  scale.  How 
dear  it  was  !  The  silence  and  chill  frozen 
there  in  layers  of  solitude  all  the  patient  win 
ter  melted  at  the  first  footfall  of  love.  It 
was  a  warm  day  of  early  June ;  and  the  sun 
lay  at  full-tide  through  the  afternoon  windows 
of  the  gray  parlor.  All  the  familiar  trifles 
seemed  to  bask  in  the  yellow  flood  consciously. 
They  glanced  at  her  with  dumb  eyes,  that 
tried  to  say,  "  We  have  missed  you."  In  a 


THE  RUMOR.  15 

world  like  this,  is  it  not  something  to  be 
missed  even  by  a  picture  ?  Corona's  heart 
went  out  to  the  photographs  and  the  carmine 
ribbons  and  the  frieze  of  cardinal  flowers  on 
the  wall  ;  and  she  caressed  the  silver-gray 
curtains  with  a  tender  shake. 

Through  the  open  door  the  Harbor  looked 
in  radiantly.  A  few  small  sails  leaned  south 
westerly,  bent  on  small  errands  in  the  summer 
afternoon.  The  opposite  shore  had  the  gentle 
colors  of  the  late  seashore  spring  ;  even  the 
hoary  gray  of  the  reefs  seemed  younger  than 
its  wont,  and  the  greens  were  all  sensitive  still. 
The  water  and  the  sky  were  bold  and  happy 
blue.  Down  on  the  beach  the  traces  of  the 
winter  storms,  cut  in  gorges,  made  black  rifts 
on  the  gray  crescent ;  and  the  weeds  were 
massed  in  rich  bronze  heaps  at  the  hither  end 
of  the  curve.  The  fishermen's  salt-barrels 
and  lobster-traps,  piled  against  the  stone  wall, 
gave  the  definite  linear  foreground  that  artists 
love.  The  rolling  downs,  with  their  grazing 
cattle,  made  the  eastward  horizon  gracious  to 
the  eye.  These,  and  the  beach,  the  cliffs,  the 


16  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE, 

meadow,  and  the  road  among  the  willows,  were 
innocent  yet  of  "  summer  people."  Corona 
had  it  all  to  herself.  The  double  throb  of 
the  seen  and  the  unseen  breakers  from  the 
Harbor  and  the  outer  shores  beat  powerfully. 

"  How  dear  you  are  !  "  she  said. 

Her  neighbors,  —  Heaven  bless  the  neigh 
bors,  —  it  seemed,  had  missed  her,  too.  The 
fires  were  lighted  and  laid.  The  tea-table 
was  set.  Somebody  had  sent  hot  rolls.  Some 
body  else  asked  leave  to  bring  a  pie.  Flow 
ers  were  all  over  the  house.  Tiny  garden- 
patches,  walled  about  with  shells  after  the 
Fairharbor  fashion,  had  been  built  by  un 
known  hands,  and  planted  with  the  affection 
ate  but  unfortunate  seeds  that  always  per 
ished  during  infancy  in  any  garden  of  Co 
rona's.  Some  one  had  filled  an  old  dory  with 
nasturtiums ;  she  lay  stranded  upon  the  grass 
in  the  sheltered  corner  by  the  hogshead,  look 
ing  as  much  like  a  lettuce-garden  and  as  little 
like  a  boat  as  was  practicable.  Zero,  in  the 
overflow  of  his  welcome,  had  brought  a  pail 
of  water.  Zero,  it  will  be  remembered,  or 


THE   RUMOR.  17 

should  be  said,  was  the  boy  who  went  to  the 
post-office  ;  and  a  pail  of  fresh  water  is  the 
final  luxury  of  civilization  in  Fairharbor.  Co 
rona  shut  herself  alone  into  the  little  gray 
parlor,  and  collected  her  over-sensitive  thought 
for  those  first  few  minutes.  Only  a  matched 
board  cottage,  and  Puelvir,  and  the  ocean, 
and  the  neighbors,  and  Matthew  Launcelot  — 
and  yet,  how  happy,  how  happy  a  thing  is  a 
human  home  !  Her  eyes  filled.  What,  then, 
would  it  be,  to  be  people  who  have  more  than 
that  ?  What  must  it  be  like,  to  come  home 
to  that  other  kind  of  blessedness,  the  real 
homelikeness  ?  — 

A  cold  nose  and  a  pink  tongue  profusely 
interrupted  this  dangerous  and  uncharacteris 
tic  sortie  of  the  imagination.  Matthew  Laun 
celot,  alert  to  what  he  perceived  to  be  the  un 
usual,  crept  up  into  her  arms,  and  made  him 
self  as  agreeable  as  Nature  had  permitted 
him  to  be.  Matthew  Launcelot  knew  that  he 
had  effective  eyes.  He  looked  at  her  senti 
mentally  and  sadly,  as  who  would  say,  "  But 
you  have  me." 


18  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

"  Bless  you,  yes  !  "  said  Corona,  contritely. 
She  caressed  the  dog,  as  if  she  would  apolo 
gize  to  him.  Nobody  understood  her  better 
than  Matthew  Launcelot.  If  the  wing  of  a 
flying  vision  had  brushed  her  for  that  instant ; 
if  the  thing  that  had  been  and  the  thing  that 
was  not  to  be  had  met  and  cried  out  against 
each  other  upon  her  threshold,  and  in  her 
strong  despite,  who  but  Matthew  Launcelot 
need  know  ? 

"  Somethin'  's  happened,"  said  Puelvir,  ap 
pearing  at  the  door  suddenly. 

"  Very  well,  Puelvir.    What,  for  instance  ?  " 

"  Mis'  Rowin  's  been  in.  She  told  me  to 
prepare  you.  I  said  I  would.  She  thought 
she  would  n't  ask  for  you  to-night,  you  'd  be 
so  upset  by  it.  I  told  her  it  was  very  thought 
ful  in  her." 

"  If  her  though tfulness  extended  —  What 
is  it  that  you  have  to  prepare  me  for,  Puel 
vir  ?  " 

"  Burglars,"  said  Puelvir,  with  grim  tri 
umph. 

"  Ah  ?  "  listlessly  from  her  mistress. 


THE  RUMOR.  19 

"  They  're  all  round  the  neighborhood. 
They  've  stole  Mis'  Rowin's  best  nigh'gownd, 
and  Mr.  Jacobses  old  harness,  and  Tommy 
Thurston's  Bantam  rooster.  They  're  very 
dangerous  men.  There  's  five  of  'em." 

"  They  must  be  dangerous  men,  —  such 
deadly  depredations.  Is  this  all  you  had  to 
prepare  me  for,  Puelvir  ?  " 

"  Well,  no  'm.  It  hain't.  They  've  ben 
here.  They  've  broke  in." 

"  Broken  in  !  To  my  house  !  Burglars  ! 
Impossible,  Puelvir.  The  shutters  "  — 

"  Well,  yes  'm.  Thanks  to  mercy,  they 
did  n't  get  so  very  far.  They  found  they 
was  locked  out  by  that  there  bronze  bolt  of 
your'n.  They  got  in  the  little  wood-shed 
window  by  the  pantry.  He  seems  to  have  been 
a  large  feller,  and,  nigh  's  we  can  make  out, 
he  stuck.  Anyways  he  did  n't  get  no  farther ; 
but  she  told  me  to  break  it  to  you  gently,  for 
she  was  afraid  it  would  be  a  shock  to  you.  He 
took  all  he  could  lay  hands  on,  and  clared." 

"  I  thought  you  said  there  were  five  of 
them/' 


20  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

"  I  never  said  there  was  five  squoze  in  that 
there  two-foot  window/'  replied  Puelvir  lof 
tily.  "  But  it 's  an  awful  thing  to  think  of, 
come  to  think  on  't.  And  they  took  "  — 

"  What  did  they  steal,  Puelvir  ?  What  is 
the  amount  of  my  loss?  Tell  me  the  worst 
at  once !  " 

"  Well,  I  did  n't  say 's  they  took  so  much" 
answered  Puelvir,  in  a  disappointed  tone. 
"  But  they  're  very  dangerous  men.  And 
they  've  took  the  hatchet." 

"The  hatchet?" 

"  Yes,  the  hatchet  —  howsomever  they  ever 
found  it.  When  you  and  me  wanted  it,  it 
was  always  at  the  bottom  of  the  wood-pile, 
where  he  'd  piled  his  wood  onto  it.  /  never 
found  the  hatchet  in  this  house." 

66  Is  that  the  extent  of  my  losses,  Puel 
vir  ?  " 

"  Well,  pretty  much.  They  've  got  the 
hatchet.  And  the  carving-knife,  —  the  one 
Zero  used  on  the  kindlin'.  I  'd  like  to  see 
'em  cut  that  Bantam  rooster  with  it  !  And 
they  took  the  close-pins,  and  the  gimlet,  and 


THE  RUMOR.  21 

a  paper  of  tacks,  and  the  hatchet.  That 's 
about  all,  nigh  's  Mis'  Rowin  can  tell.  She 
feels  very  bad  about  it.  She  said  the  neigh 
bors  would  a  set  up  nights  to  watch  your 
house.  She  hoped  you  'd  bear  up  under  the 
shock.  She  wanted  to  know  if  we  did  n't 
want  Zero  to  come  over  here  and  sleep ;  but 
I  told  her  I  guessed  you  'n  me  had  tried  that 
for  one  while." 

"  I  think  we  must  get  along  without  Zero," 
said  Corona.  "But  it  is  an  unpleasant 
thought,  —  five  of  them  getting  in  such  very 
little  windows  in  a  person's  house.  I  will 
think  the  matter  over,  Puelvir,  and  talk  with 
you  presently." 

So  Corona  went  out  on  the  piazza  to  think 
the  burglars  over.  Mrs.  Eowin's  hens  were 
sitting  there  comfortably.  They  all  arose 
and  greeted  her  in  a  very  hospitable  manner, 
and  walked  away  one  by  one,  with  an  air  of 
consideration  for  her  feelings  which  made  it 
impossible  to  "  shoo  "  them. 

As  to  that  horse  —  but  this  requires  time. 


II. 

THE    SCARE. 

"  PUELVIR,"  said  her  mistress,  that  even 
ing,  when  the  two  women  prepared  to  face 
the  first  night  alone,  in  a  neighborhood 
known  to  be  haunted  by  house-breakers,  — 
"  Puelvir,  is  Zero  as  deaf  as  he  used  to  be  ?  " 

"  Deefer/'  said  Puelvir,  laconically. 

"  Then  I  really  don't  think  he  would  help 
us  any  ;  do  you  ?  We  must  make  up  our 
minds  to  protect  ourselves.  I  think  we  can  ; 
don't  you,  Puelvir  ?  " 

"I  've  nailed  the  ironin'  -  board  and  the 
step-ladder  and  the  big  soap-stone  and  two 
flat-irons  agen  the  shed  window.  I  'd  like  to 
see  'em  get  in  there." 

"  That 's  an  excellent  plan,  Puelvir.  I  've 
been  thinking  it  over.  My  idea  was  that 
we  must  really  lock  up.  I  've  never  paid 


THE   SCARE.  23 

much  attention  to  the  subject.  We  will  make 
a  point  of  it.  I  think  we  'd  better  begin 
early." 

66 1  bet  I  know  what  they  took  the  hatchet 
for,  Miss  Corona.  I  've  been  thinkin'  about 
it." 

"  And  what  was  it  for,  Puelvir  ?  " 

"  To  carve  Tommy's  rooster  with  ;  that  's 
what  they  wanted  of  it.  Depend  on  't,  they 
took  your  carvin'-knife  first ;  'n  when  they 
found  what  they  'd  got  in  that  knife  —  let 
alon'  the  rooster  —  they  come  back  for  the 
hatchet." 

66  Yes/'  replied  Corona,  pensively.  "  Mr. 
Tom  and  Mr.  Sinuous  used  to  say  it  was  a 
little  dull." 

Corona  referred  to  the  only  gentlemen 
guests  whom  the  Old  Maid's  Paradise  had 
yet  known.  Tom  was  her  brother,  and  Mr. 
Sinuous  may  be  recalled  as  the  young  man 
from  Mt.  Desert,  who  had  played  the  Ser 
pent  in  this  feminine  Eden,  and  removed  a 
preferred  friend  from  Corona's  hearth-stone. 

"  We  will  lock  up,"  repeated  Corona.    "  We 


24  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

will  lock  up  very  much.  I  think,  with  my 
pistol  "  - 

Puelvir  interrupted  by  an  audible  and  sig 
nificant,  but  smothered,  titter.  Corona  re 
garded  her  inquiringly,  to  see  if  this  expressed 
any  disrespect  toward  the  pistol.  But  Puelvir 
vouchsafed  .no  explanation. 

"  And  then,  with  Matthew  Launcelot "  — 

"  Matthew  Launcelot !  "  cried  Puelvir. 

"  Certainly,"  replied  the  mistress,  with  some 
dignity.  "  He  was  given  to  me  for  a  watch 
dog,  Puelvir.  T  have  no  doubt  that  if  Mat 
thew  Launcelot  had  been  here,  we  should 
have  our  hatchet  now,  and  that  paper  of 
tacks,  too." 

"  Mebbe  we  should,"  said  Puelvir,  dis 
creetly  and  obscurely.  "  Will  ye  leave  me 
to  lock  up  behind,  and  you  lock  up  before  ? 
I  'd  like  to  see  'em,"  added  Puelvir.  "  T  'd 
jest  like  to  see  'em  git  into  this  house,  and 
me  in  it !  " 

Judging  from  Puelvir's  kindling  counte 
nance,  this  remark  might  be  taken  as  literally 
true. 


THE   SCARE.  25 

The  two  women  made  solemn  business  of 
it,  barricading"  the  lonely  house  that  night. 
At  moments  Corona  thought  of  Tom,  and  of 
Susy  and  the  baby  sleeping  in  his  big  pro 
tection.  But  she  patted  Matthew  Launcelot, 
and  cleaned  her  pistol,  and  drew  her  bolts, 
and  said  her  prayers,  and  kept  a  stout  heart, 
and  trusted  in  Puelvir  and  Providence,  — 
much  in  the  order  of  their  going  through  this 
sentence. 

Their  preparations  for  the  night  were  fear 
fully  and  wonderfully  made.  The  defenses 
of  the  Old  Maid's  Paradise  being  of  the  most 
primitive  nature,  feminine  ingenuity  was  put 
to  the  tests  of  despair.  When  Corona  had 
come  to  the  end  of  such  1  ocks  and  bolts  as 
the  house  possessed,  she  drew  upon  her  inven 
tion  with  a  naivete  which  would  have  been  re 
freshing  to  the  intellect  of  the  burglar  ;  but 
it  is  one  of  the  few  advantages  left  us  by  our 
advanced  civilization  that  the  gentlemen  of 
the  nipper  and  jimmy  are  not  usually  wit 
nesses  of  the  innocent  devices  for  their 
amusement  offered  by  the  bosom  of  the  fam- 


26  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

ily  in  hours  of  panic  ;  the  truth  being  that 
the  hours  of  panic  and  the  hours  of  peril 
in  this,  as  in  so  many  another  case,  fail  to 
coincide. 

Corona's  chef  d'ceuvre  consisted  in  coun 
terscarps  of  chairs  as  disposed  in  front  of 
windows.  She  was  confident  that  no  house 
breaker  could  pass  the  pyramids  and  Pisan 
Towers  and  Cleopatran  Needles  and  Bunker 
Hill  Monuments  which  she  constructed  from 
this  useful  article  of  domestic  furniture.  Her 
confidence  only  came  to  an  end  with  her 
chairs.  Four  to  a  set  —  bought  "  in  the 
white"  —  brought  the  supply  in  Paradise  to 
a  visible  mathematical  end  in  the  course  of 
the  evening.  She  depended  on  sofa-pillows 
until  she  remembered  that  they  were  not  a 
noisy  material  for  barricade  purposes  where 
the  main  value  must  consist  in  capacity  for 
waking  you  up.  She  had  what  Mr.  James 
would  call  "  a  phase "  of  faith  in  screws, 
But  Corona  had  never  in  her  life  been  able 
to  make  a  hole  for  the  screw,  or  to  get  the 
screw  into  the  hole  after  she  had  made  it. 


THE   SCARE.  27 

In  this  case  a  native  disability  was  empha 
sized  by  the  absence  of  the  gimlet,  which  had 
shared  the  fate  of  the  hatchet  and  the  paper 
of  tacks.  When  she  had  labored  nobly,  but 
sadly,  with  the  corkscrew  for  half  an  hour  or 
so,  Puelvir  came  to  her  relief. 

"  Land,  Miss  Corona  !  A  screw  won't 
screw  without  a  gimlet  any  more  'n  you  can 
bury  a  coffin  without  a  grave." 

"  A  screw  won't  screw  for  a  woman,  I  'm 
afraid,"  said  her  mistress,  rather  plaintively. 
"  What  have  you  done  to  your  part  of  the 
house,  Puelvir  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Puelvir,  setting  her  arms 
akimbo,  and  breathing  very  hard,  "  I  've 
used  up  all  the  nails  in  the  house.  It  '11  tako 
me  an  hour  to  dror  'em  out  come  mornin'. 
I  built  a  sort  of  meetin'-house  agen  that  there 
kitchen  winder  where  the  bolt  's  broke.  I 
built  it  outen  coal-hods  and  tongs  and  kitchen 
tables,  let  alon'  a  few  stove  covers  and  the 
biler.  Then  I  run  the  close-line  all  acrost 
the  dinin'-room  in  a  sort  of  slip-noose.  They 
can't  get  nowhere-acrost  that  dinin'-room  with- 


28  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

out  bein'  tripped  and  slip-noosed,  would  n't 
I  like  to  see  'em  !  " 

"  Excellent,  Puelvir !  "  said  Corona,  in  tones 
of  faint  admiration.  "  But  how  am  /  to  get 

o 

across  the  dining-room  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  you  'II  have  to  go  to  hed  up  the 
outside  stairs,  through  my  room,"  said  Puel 
vir,  serenely.  "  I  '11  light  the  lantern  and 
take  you  right  along." 

"  And  those  five  burglars  watching  us  from 
the  street,  exposed  to  full  view  by  the  light 
of  that  lantern  ?  Never,  Puelvir  !  We  will 
go  to  bed  in  the  dark.  What  else  have  you 
done  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Puelvir,  gleefully,  « I  've  kep' 
a  kitchen  fire.  That 's  what  I  've  done  !  " 

"  A  kitchen  fire  !  This  hot  night !  Why, 
what  in  the  world  "  — 

"  Hot  water,"  said  Puelvir,  fiercely.  "  And 
pokers.  Red-hot  pokers.  And  pailsful 
throw'd  on  'em  to  scalt  'em.  I  've  run  that 
piece  o'  hose  you  had  to  fetch  water  from 
the  spring  that  would  n't  fetch,  you  know  — 
up  from  the  kittles  into  my  room.  I  whit- 


THE  SCARE.  29 

tied  a  hole  in  the  floor  to  get  it  through,  with 
the  bread-knife,  and  Mis'  Ro win's  old  axe.  I 
borryed  it  of  her.  I  told  her  I  wanted  to  cut 
some  of  them  biscuit  your  brother's  cook  made 
for  you  to  bring  home  in  the  lunch-box.  I 
had  to  tell  her  something.  I  was  n't  going 
to  give  her  the  particulars.  I  tell  you  what, 
Miss  Corona,  come  to  get  past  them  coal-hods, 
and  the  close-line,  and  all  them  nails,  and  the 
biler,  and  them  soap-stones,  and  that  there 
scaldin'  water  —  and  your  screws,"  added  Fu 
el  vir,  as  a  polite  after-thought,  "  I  '11  resk 
their  burglin'  much  in  this  house  to-night." 

Corona's  family  passed,  as  may  be  inferred, 
a  restless  night.  Mistress  and  maid  stole  up 
the  outside  stairs  to  bed,  in  the  dark,  guilt- 

%• 

"  Some  kind  neighbor  will  take  us  for  our 
own  burglars,  and  shoot,"  whispered  Corona, 
with  chattering  teeth. 

"  I  dessay  they  mought,"  replied  Puelvir, 
cheerfully.  Puelvir  was  in  high  spirits.  The 
duty  of  barricading  Paradise  had  greatly  ex 
cited  her.  It  was  impossible  not  to  suspect 


30  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

that  Puelvir  would  be  disappointed  if  nobody 
burgled  l  that  house. 

When  they  had  got  safely  past  the  slip- 
noose  and  the  boiling  water  and  the  poker, 
and  engineered  their  way  by  the  fortresses  of 
chairs  without  tilting  them  down,  —  for  they 
hung  poised  with  a  delicacy  which  will  hardly 
be  credited  to  so  stolid  an  article,  unless  one  is 
familiar  with  this  species  of  architecture,  — 
when  they  were  actually  in  their  rooms,  with 
the  doors  locked,  and  were  well-nigh,  indeed, 
in  bed,  a  pathetic  wail,  followed  by  an  impe 
rious  outcry,  startled  them  from  below.  They 
had  forgotten  Matthew  Launcelot. 

With  masculine  indifference  to  feminine 
agitations,  Matthew  Launcelot,  the  only  un 
disturbed  member  of  the  family,  had  slept  off 
the  exhaustion  of  travel  in  some  invisible 
haunt  down-stairs,  and  had  waked  under  the 
apparent  impression  that  he  himself  was  be 
ing  burgled  in  an  acute  form. 

1  I  use  this  word  without  apology  for  a  term  which  the 
present  state  of  American  civilization  has  surely  rendered 
a  necessity  of  the  language. 


THE  SCARE.  31 

"  I  'd  rether  hev  burglars  than  that  dog," 
said  Puelvir,  scornfully.  "  He  's  more  trouble 
in  the  long  run,  and  less  use.  Whar  '11  he 
sleep  now  ?  " 

"  I  would  take  him  in  my  room  ;  but  it 
does  n't  seem  quite  fair  to  defend  myself  so, 
at  your  expense/'  said  her  mistress,  kindly. 
"  You  can  keep  him,  if  you  want  to." 

"  I  would  n't  take  the  critter  away  from 
you,"  said  the  maid,  politely.  "  It  would  n't 
become  me." 

It  was  decided  that  Matthew  Launcelot 
should  sleep  on  the  landing  at  the  head  of 
the  stairs,  between  the  bedrooms. 

"  That  divides  the  protection,"  observed 
Corona. 

"  And  halves  the  affliction,"  muttered  Puel- 
vir,  ns  she  crept  down  again  (in  her  night 
dress  and  crimping  -  pins,  with  a  gossamer 
waterproof  too  short  for  her),  crawled  past 
the  hot  water  and  the  poker  and  the  clothes 
line  and  Bunker  Hill  monument  and  the  boiler 
and  the  hose,  and  returned  with  the  dog, 
whom  she  had  found  reposing,  with  an  in- 


32  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

jured  air,  upon  the  middle  of  the  lace  pillow- 
sham  on  the  guest-room  bed. 

As  I  say,  it  was  a  very  restless  night. 
Every  nocturnal  sound  took  on  awful  propor 
tions  to  Corona's  straining  ear.  She  could 
not  sleep.  She  was  oppressed  with  her  sense 
of  responsibility  as  the  head  of  a  family,  if 
harm  came  to  the  innocent  creatures  entrusted 
to  her  care.  "  What  if  this  were  doubled, 
trebled,  sextupled,  by,  for  instance,  a  hus 
band  and  five  children  ?  "  she  thought.  It 
did  not  occur  to  her  at  the  moment,  —  so  pow 
erful  a  compress  is  the  habit  of  solitary  life 
upon  the  imagination,  —  it  really  did  not  oc 
cur  to  her  that  a  husband  would  halve,  much 
less  remove,  the  risk,  but  only  how  much  he 
would  add  to  the  care. 

It  was  a  still  night  without,  that  is  to  say, 
there  was  no  wind ;  and  Corona  tried  to  yield 
herself  to  the  peace  that  comes  in  the  power 
of  the  sea  to  those  who  understand  and  love 
it.  She  listened  to  the  incoming  of  the 
faithful,  friendly  tide  upon  the  beach  and 
lava-gorge.  She  watched  the  shimmer  of  the 


THE  SCARE.  33 

stars  and  head-lights  in  the  Harbor  ;  each 
star  made  an  arrow,  and  each  head-light  a 
shaft  of  fire  in  the  waves ;  where  the  an 
chored  boats  swung  trustfully  for  their  night's 
rest,  there  seemed  a  little  tunnel  of  flame  cut 
into  the  deep,  as  into  a  mine  of  light  that  lay 
ablaze  below  the  blackness.  Now  and  then 
a  belated  schooner  stirred  in  slowly  through 
the  calm,  lifting  her  sailing  signals  of  scarlet 
and  of  green  ;  these  pulsated  as  they  moved 
against  the  purple  sky.  One  ocean  steamer, 
put  in  for  some  unknown  errand,  reared  her 
huge  outline  in  the  channel,  with  high  and 
brilliant  lights.  The  shore  fishermen  were  all 
well  at  home,  and  except  for  the  sharp  rattle 
of  some  furling  sails,  or  the  clank  of  a  down- 
going  chain  as  some  unseen  boat  swung  to 
her  moorings,  the  Harbor  was  quite  still. 

Not  so  the  Old  Maid's  Paradise.  Every 
clapboard  squeaked.  Every  shingle  started. 
Each  blind  stirred  stealthily.  The  very  hogs 
head  groaned.  Mysterious  creaks  ran  along 
the  outer  stairs.  Inexplicable  moans  started 
from  the  hammock  on  the  piazza.  Heart- 


34  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

throbs  kept  time  to  every  real  and  unreal  in 
terruption  of  the  night's  repose.  Puelvir 
(and  her  crimping-pins)  sat  bolt  upright  in 
bed  between  dreams  of  having  her  throat  cut 
by  the  man  who  stole  the  paper  of  tacks,  and 
of  being  shot  by  Miss  Corona.  Matthew 
Launcelot,  sensitive  to  the  family  atmosphere, 
or  to  Puelvir's  criticism,  slept  fitfully,  and 
musically  divided  the  watches  of  the  night 
according  to  a  taste  and  a  conscience  of  his 
own.  When  he  did  not  bark  he  snored,  and 
when  he  did  not  snore  he  barked.  Thus  the 
night  passed. 

"  Puelvir,"  called  her  mistress  once,  through 
the  thin  walls,  "  are  you  asleep  ?  " 

"  Hain't  slept  a  wink,"  declared  Puelvir, 
starting  from  her  last  dream.  "  Who  could  ?  " 

"  You  did  n't  hear  —  anything,  did  you  ? 
You  don't  think  we  'd  better  go  down,  do  you 
—  and  see  ?  " 

"  It 's  them  flat-irons,"  called  Puelvir.  "  Or 
the  biler.  Mebbe  it 's  your  screws.  And 
how  to  mercy  are  we  ever  goin'  down  them 
outside  stairs  in  our  nigh'gownds  ?  " 


THE  SCARE.  35 

"  That 's  true,  Puelvir.  I  had  n't  thought 
of  it.  You  are  quite  right.  How  glad  I 
am  we  had  Matthew  Launcelot  sleep  up 
stairs  !  " 

66  Be  you  !  "  replied  Puelvir,  with  deep  sig 
nificance.  As  the  night  wore  on  its  way, 
Corona  sank  into  the  sleep  which  health  is 
sure  to  snatch  from  weariness  or  even  from 
anxiety.  She  was  resting  from  her  labors 
as  the  defender  of  her  family,  in  a  harrow 
ing  dream  that  she  had  married  a  minister 
in  Montana,  on  a  seven-hundred-dollar  sal 
ary,  when  she  was  roused  by  a  noise.  This 
time  it  was  a  real  noise.  It  was  a  terrible 
noise.  It  thumped  and  thundered,  it  shrieked 
and  shattered  through  the  silent,  helpless 
house.  Five  burglars  ?  Fifteen  burglars 
could  not  make  its  like.  The  two  women 
sprang,  by  one  awful  instinct,  and  faced  each 
other,  shivering,  on  the  landing.  Corona  had 
lighted  her  candle,  and,  true  to  her  military 
instincts,  grasped  her  revolver  —  by  the  muz 
zle.  Puelvir  appeared  with  her  hose  (the 
well-hose,  I  mean)  gripped  in  a  death-like 


36  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

clutch,  and  immediately  showered  Corona 
from  head  to  foot  with  the  water  from  the 
kettle  below,  which,  fortunately  —  the  fire 
being  low  —  was  no  longer  "  scalt,"  but  of 
the  temperature  of  melted  ice-cream  an  hour 
after  dinner. 

The  noise  meanwhile  continued,  and  ac 
celerated.  It  was  a  noise  that  defied  descrip 
tion.  It  seemed  to  come  from  the  dining- 
room. 

"  I  am  going  to  descend,"  said  the  Head  of 
the  Family  in  a  hollow  voice.  "  It  is  my  duty. 
You  need  not  come.  Stay  and  save  yourself, 
Puelvir.  I  shall  go." 

"  If  you  think  you  're  a-goin'  to  be  mur 
dered  one  mortal  step  without  me,"  quavered 
Puelvir,  "  you  may  suit  yourself  to  another 
hired  girl." 

She  pushed  by  her  mistress,  and,  without 
another  word,  preceded  her.  Corona  fol 
lowed  in  a  dripping  condition.  Pallid  and 
panting,  they  crept  down-stairs.  Corona  held 
her  pistol  pointed  directly  at  Puelvir's  crazy- 
bone.  Puelvir  carried  the  hose,  which  was 


THE   SCARE.  37 

doggedly  sputtering  cold  water  all  over  the 
house,  with  a  general  air  of  meaning  to  hit 
somebody,  it  did  n't  much  matter  whom. 
Since  Corona  was  as  wet  as  she  could  be  al 
ready,  she  regarded  the  hose  with  indiffer 
ence. 

The  noise  continued  crescendo,  and,  guided 
by  its  direful  clew,  these  two  defenders  of 
their  altars  and  their  fires  courageously  made 
and  stood  their  ground  to  see  — 

Matthew  Launcelot.  Matthew  Launcelot 
and  the  clothes-line  struggling  together  in 
the  dining-room.  Straight  into  the  slip-noose 
—  and  nowhere  else  —  that  unhappy  dog  had 
walked.  There,  hanging,  strangling,  yelling, 
as  nobody  but  Matthew  Launcelot  could  yell, 
though  one  took  lessons  at  forty  dollars  a 
quarter,  the  protector  of  his  family  was  res 
cued  from  the  burglar's  fate  not  a  moment 
too  soon  for  the  preservation  of  his  valuable 
and  soothing  life. 

The  clothes-line  was  not  popular,  after 
this,  as  a  means  of  domestic  defense.  The 
slip-noose  was  voted  off  the  list.  Matthew 


38  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

Launcelot  now  slept  in  the  kitchen.  This 
required  the  abrogation  of  the  window  barri 
cade,  because  he  insisted  on  sleeping1  in  the 
boiler,  and  it  (and  he)  tumbled  down  on  the 
stove,  about  midnight,  every  night.  On  iron 
ing  days,  when  the  stove  was  hot,  this  had  its 
disadvantages.  Gradually  the  soap-stones  and 
the  flat-irons  seemed  to  become  of  less  im 
portance.  The  nails  took  too  long  to  draw 
out  again.  The  chairs  in  the  parlor  got 
scratched,  and  Cleopatra's  Needle  fell  to  the 
earth  at  three  o'clock  A.  M.  one  night,  pro 
ducing  more  of  a  shock  to  the  nervous  sys 
tem  than  any  gentlemanly  Bostonian  burglar 
could  possibly  cause.  Corona's  screws  had 
never  got  more  than  half-way.  Thus  the  bur 
glar  alarm  of  Paradise  became,  like  those  of 
more  ambitious  homes,  "  more  expensive  than 
the  burglars,"  and,  as  fear  gave  way  before 
the  absence  of  adventure,  a  daring  disregard 
of  consequences,  united  to  the  native  indo 
lence  of  the  hour  preceding  bed-time,  led  the 
two  women  back  to  less  exciting,  if  less  in 
genious,  methods  of  locking  their  house.  As 


THE   SCARE.  39 

no  more  hatchets  or  roosters  were  stolen,  their 
terrors  slept.  Corona  ceased  to  reflect  upon 
the  anxieties  of  protecting  an  imaginary 
husband.  Life  in  the  matched-board  cottage 
reacted  to  more  than  its  usual  level  of  se 
renity. 

It  was  in  the  apathy  following  the  intensity 
of  that  first  experience,  perhaps,  that  Coro 
na's  thoughts  took  an  idle  and  luxurious  turn, 
which  she  one  day  communicated  to  the  part 
ner  of  her  joys  and  sorrows,  in  these  startling 
words  :  — 

"  Puelvir,  I  'm  going  to  buy  a  horse." 


Ill 

GOOD    FAMILY    HORSES. 

CORONA'S  announcement  of  her  intention 
to  purchase  a  horse  plunged  her  family  and 
immediate  circle  of  friends  into  one  of  those 
panics  of  good  advice  which  are  sure  to  fol 
low  (if  anything  follows)  the  unexpected  upon- 
the  part  of  a  solitary  woman.  Corona  re 
flected  that  this  was  so  much  better  than  for 
nobody  to  care  enough  to  advise  her  that  she 
bore  it  with  grateful  good-humor.  Her  sister- 
in-law  wrote  by  return  mail  that  it  was  very 
extravagant,  and  that  she  would  need  the 
money  for  a  seal-skin  cloak  ;  but  finance  and 
a  comprehension  of  Corona's  needs  were  not 
Susy's  strong  points.  Tom  telegraphed  : 
"  You  '11  get  cheated."  Some  old  friends 
known  as  Elf  and  Mary,  who  had  shared 
Corona's  first  summer  in  Paradise,  remon- 


GOOD  FAMILY  HORSES.  41 

strated  in  letters  of  thirteen  and  seventeen 
pages  respectively.  Elf  objected  on  the 
ground  that  Matthew  Launcelot  was  already 
as  much  of  a  zoological  responsibility  as  one 
woman  could  sanely  support.  Mary  said  that 
Mr.  Sinuous  said  that  it  was  better  to  hire 
from  the  livery,  on  account  of  the  blacksmith's 
bills  ;  but  then  Mary  was  still  a  bride. 

General  and  Mrs.  Wolchester  drove  over 
from  Gride's  farm  to  advise  Corona  to  substi 
tute  a  tricycle.  Some  Boston  acquaintances 
said  their  horses  always  had  the  heaves.  Old 
Father  Morrison,  the  lobster  man,  asked  where 
she  was  goin'  to  keep  the  critter,  and  remarked 
that  his  own  legs  was  good  enough  for  him. 
Mrs.  Rowin  claimed  that  horses  were  danger 
ous  animals  to  have  around.  Zero  cautiously 
observed  that  he  did  n't  know  a  boy  in  Fair- 
harbor  would  tackle  up  for  less  than  five  dol 
lars  and  seventy-five  cents  a  week.  Puelvir 
said  nothing  at  all  —  the  severest  form  of  per 
sonal  discouragement  which  Puelvir  was  ever 
known  to  throw  upon  her  mistress's  hopes  or 
purposes. 


42  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

To  all  of  this  kindly  interest  Corona  re 
sponded  with  a  cheerful  deference  to  the  views 
advanced  in  each  respective  case,  and  pro 
ceeded  to  take  steps  for  the  furtherance  of 
her  own ;  a  course  of  conduct  which  made  all 
her  advisers  happy,  and  herself  besides,  —  and 
that  was  a  good  deal  to  achieve. 

To  her  brother  she  wrote  as  follows :  — 

"  DEAR  TOM,  —  Thank  you  for  your  offer 
to  come  down  and  buy  my  horse.  You  know 
I  should  be  glad  to  have  you,  and  you  know 
you  won't  come.  Any  6  horse-sense '  for 
warded  to  me  by  telegraph  or  telephone,  in 
the  intervals  of  your  duties,  will  be  grate 
fully  receipted,  and  respected.  Until  you  do 
get  her,  I  think  I  shall  look  about  a  little  for 
myself. 

"  It  is  true  that  I  have  never  before  been  the 
purchaser  of  a  family  horse.  I  admit  it.  But 
when  I  think  of  the  years  I  have  driven  Susy 
down  town,  and  waited  for  her  to  do  her  shop 
ping  in  a  sleet-storm ;  when  I  remember  the 
occasions  upon  which  I  have  (in  your  unavoid 
able  absence)  harnessed  to  go  for  the  doctor 


GOOD  FAMILY  HORSES.  43 

for  the  baby,  —  usually  at  night,  —  and  to  be 
professionally  told  that  nothing  ailed  her; 
when  I  reflect  upon  the  August  afternoons, 
with  the  thermometer  at  95°,  that  have  seen 
me  jerking  and  cl'k'king  the  family  carryall 
along  to  give  the  baby  an  airing,  —  and  espe 
cially  upon  the  occasion  when  the  door  gave 
way,  and  she  tumbled  out  backward  and 
turned  a  somersault  between  the  wheels,  and 
landed  sitting  down  beneath  the  carriage ; 
when  I  recall  the  training  I  had  in  catching 
Old  Ben,  raw  from  the  pasture,  to  go  for  the 
mail,  because  Patrick  had  a  sick  headache, 
the  day  after  a  wake,  and  Susy  was  afraid  he 
would  break  down,  —  when  I  think  these 
things  over  calmly,  I  am  fain  to  ask,  how 
ever  modestly,  if  my  horse  education  will 
not  go  for  something  in  the  awful  risk  which 
I  feel  I  am  about  to  take  upon  myself. 

"  Cheated  ?  I  expect  to  get  cheated.  Why 
should  I  escape  the  universal  human  fate  ? 
But  worse  things  may  happen  to  a  woman 
than  to  be  cheated ;  and  I  want  a  horse,  be 
he  honest  or  a  rascal,  and  am, 

"  Yours,  •  CORO." 


44  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

Scarcely  twenty-four  hours  had  elapsed  since 
Corona's  intention  to  add  a  horse  to  her  do 
mestic  circle  had  been  mentioned  aloud,  before 
she  found  herself  in  the  heart  of  a  new  world. 
It  might  be  succinctly  called  the  Horse  World. 
The  delights  of  the  fireside,  the  enticements 
of  the  June  sky,  the  fascination  of  the  ocean, 
the  delicate  shift  and  play  of  summer  life,  re 
ceded  from  her  consciousness  like  plates  in  a 
magic  lantern.  Her  brain-cells  became  sten 
ciled  with  the  language  and  literature  of  the 
turf.  Anxious  to  proceed  upon  her  rash  ven 
ture  with  some  degree  of  intelligence,  she  had 
made  herself  the  possessor  of  a  book  called 
"  The  Horse  and  his  Habits."  When  anybody 
called  —  as  somebody  did  at  the  rate  of  six  or 
seven  a  day  —  with  a  horse  to  sell,  she  con 
sulted  this  useful  volume.  She  received  the 
impression  that  a  horse  was  the  most  delicate 
creature,  and  subject  to  the  richest  stock  of 
bodily  infirmities  of  any  specimen  of  organized 
life  known  to  our  present  civilization.  An  in 
fant  or  a  woman  was  nothing  to  it.  Beyond 
this  one  idea,  which  rapidly  assumed  the  dan- 


GOOD  FAMILY  HORSES.  45 

gerous  proportions  of  the  "  fixed/'  in  Corona's 
mental  life  at  this  period,  it  cannot  be  said  that 
she  brought  away  much  available  knowledge 
from  "  The  Horse  and  his  Habits."  She  pe 
rused  the  book  sturdily.  Tom  did  not  come. 
Of  course  Tom  did  not  come,  —  he  was  in  Ida 
ho  ;  it  was  something  about  bear-skins,  —  so 
she  clung  to  this  intelligent  volume  bravely,  as 
the  sole  defense  between  herself  and  that  deli 
cate  sense  of  honor  well  known  to  belong  to 
the  jockey  considered  as  a  class.  Who  has 
ever  solved  the  riddle,  What  is  there  about 
horses  which  should  be  so  injurious  to  the  hu 
man  conscience  ?  Why  should  a  horse  make 
a  man  a  commercial  rascal,  rather  than  glue, 
or  cracked  wheat,  or  dry  goods,  or  soap  ? 

One  horse  in  particular  pleased  Corona  very 
much.  The  owner  had  come  every  day  with 
it,  and  stayed.  He  had  stayed  very  much. 
He  had  fastened  his  horse  to  the  clothes-post, 
beginning  on  Monday,  when  the  lines  were 
up,  and  outstayed  all  the  other  bids.  Corona, 
with  feminine  respect  for  the  pertinacious  in 
pursuit,  admired  the  perseverance  of  this  man, 


46  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

and  hated  to  hurt  his  feelings  by  refusing  to 
take  his  horse. 

Her  friend  Mary  had  come  over  to  stay  a 
few  days  (Mr.  Sinuous  said  she  might.  This 
was  the  more  praiseworthy  in  Mr.  Sinuous  be 
cause  he  himself  was  not  invited),  in  order  to 
help  Corona  through  this  trying  period.  The 
two  ladies  drove  together  from  morning  to 
night,  experimenting  with  the  different  ap 
plicants,  in  the  lazy,  delightful  country  fash 
ion  that  makes  horse-hunting  as  a  high  art 
a  pleasure  unknown  to  towns.  Through  mur 
muring  lanes,  where  the  bees  fastidiously 
tasted  the  barberry  blossoms,  over  the  bril 
liant  beaches,  and  deep  into  the  scented  woods, 
Mary  and  Corona  rode  and  rode.  They  rode 
with  old  horses,  young  horses,  sound  horses, 
sick  horses,  horses  that  went,  and  horses 
that  would  n't  go,  and  horses  that  went  more 
than  was  expected  of  them  ;  horses  that  ran 
away  with  them  and  horses  that  sat  down 
with  them,  horses  that  limped,  horses  that 
stumbled,  horses  that  coughed,  horses  that 
took  the  bits  between  their  teeth,  and  horses 


GOOD  FAMILY  HORSES.  47 

that  wouldn't  go  up-hill  without  a  lump  of 
sugar.  There  was  one  —  but  only  one  —  who 
kicked  the  dasher  down  when  he  met  the  first 
summer  boarder,  in  an  imported  shade  hat, 
constructed  in  the  form  of  an  orthodox  meet 
ing-house,  and  ornamented  with  muslin  sun 
flowers. 

For  some  reason  sufficient  to  the  reader  of 
"  The  Horse  and  his  Habits,"  none  of  these 
animals  seemed  suitable  for  the  needs  of  her 
family,  and  she  returned  with  a  weakening 
heart  to  the  horse  tied  at  the  clothes-post  since 
Monday  morning.  His  owner  was  quite  sure 
that  he  would  fill  the  bill. 

"The  bill?"  asked  Corona.  "Fill  what 
bill  ?  We  have  n't  come  to  the  bill  yet." 

"  Pardon,  mum,"  said  the  man,  reddening 
a  little. 

Corona  looked  at  him  vaguely.  She  was 
still  deficient  in  "  horse-talk."  She  explained 
that  she  wanted  a  good  family  horse. 

She  was  assured  that  this  was  a  perfect 
specimen  of  the  kind  of  thing. 

Sound  ? 


48  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

Sound  as  sense !  Had  n't  an  out  about  him. 

Corona  did  not  know  what  an  out  was. 
She  thought  it  might  be  some  new  kind  of 
disease.  So  she  consulted  "  The  Horse  and 
his  Habits  "  before  replying. 

"It  isn't  in  my  book,"  she  whispered  to 
Mary.  "  It  may  be  one  of  those  new  aggra 
vations  developed  by  the  epizootic.  But  as 
long  as  the  horse  has  n't  got  it,  I  don't  see 
that  it  matters.  Do  you  ?  " 

"  Why  —  n-no.  I  should  n't  think  it  did," 
said  Mary,  conscientiously. 

They  went  out  again  and  reexamined  the 
horse.  He  was  a  very  handsome  horse. 

"Was  he  kind  ? 

Kind  as  a  tarrier  pup. 

Afraid  of  the  cars  ? 

Cars  ?  He  was  n't  afraid  of  the  Last  Trum 
pet. 

How  many  miles  an  hour  ? 

Ten,  week-days,  and  twelve  and  a  half  if 
you  wanted  the  doctor.  Easy. 

"  But  we  never  do  want  the  doctor,"  ob 
jected  Corona,  thoughtfully. 


GOOD  FAMILY  HORSES.  49 

Was  he  easy-bitted  ? 

You  could  drive  him  with  a  hair-pin  and  a 
piece  of  sewin'-silk. 

His  price  ? 

Two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars. 

Lowest  price  ? 

Lowest  price  ;  that  was  fifty  dollars  less  'n 
an  animal  with  his  points  would  bring  any 
where  else.  But  seem'  she  was  a  lady  —  sort 
of,  as  you  might  say,  unprotected,  no  men 
folks  to  deal  with  —  he  'd  let  her  have  it  for 
two  hundred  and  fifty,  cash  down. 

"  It  is  a  good  deal  to  get  a  horse  that  will 
never  have  the  outs,"  observed  Corona  sotto 
voce  to  her  friend.  "  And  he  is  so  handsome  ! 
I  think  I  will  take  him  —  on  trial." 

"  I  've  got  to  go  to  Boston  to  buy  a  Canady 
colt,"  objected  the  trader.  "  You  could  n't 
close  just  as  well  now,  could  you?  It  would 
be  a  great  convenience  to  me." 

Corona  was  sorry  to  inconvenience  him, 
but  she  thought  it  best  to  keep  the  horse  for 
half  a  day  or  so  before  she  bought  him.  She 
had  no  doubt  she  should  decide  to  keep  him. 


50  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

She  liked  the  animal  very  much.  She  thanked 
the  trader  for  his  perseverance,  and  ordered 
the  horse  brought  round  for  a  drive  at  two 
o'clock.  His  name  ?  she  asked,  as  an  after 
thought  ;  they  had  found  it  a  little  difficult 
to  distinguish  among  the  horses.  The  horse- 
that-sat-down,  for  instance,  was  rather  long ; 
and  The-long-legged-horse-with-the-gout  (or 
whatever  they  called  it)  that-ran-over-a-wheel- 
barrow-and-a-baby  took  time.  The  name  of 
this  very  handsome  horse  without  an  out  was 
Pepper. 

Corona  and  Mary  took  a  trial  trip  with 
Pepper.  He  started  off  excellently.  He  was 
exceedingly  handsome.  The  ladies  enjoyed 
driving  such  a  handsome  horse.  They  went 
over  by  the  celebrated  Long  Beach,  where 
the  waves  came  affectionately  to  the  most  sol 
itary  and  silver  sands  of  the  fair  coast-line. 
The  full  afternoon  coloring  was  on  the  water  : 
the  horizon  line  quivered  with  sails ;  the  sky 
blazed  like  a  blue  mirror  of  the  gods  into 
which  no  mortal  face  should  gaze.  The  two 
friends  were  not  used  to  driving  in  Fairhar- 


GOOD  FAMILY  HORSES.  51 

bor,  and  they  felt  as  if  they  had  come  to  a 
new  place.  They  were  in  the  best  of  spirits, 
and  enraptured  with  the  handsome  horse. 
He  made  good  time.  He  was  easy  at  the  bit. 
He  had  no  dangerous  tricks. 

"  And  he  looks,"  said  Corona  hopefully, 
"  as  if  he  had  a  strong  constitution." 

"  Perhaps,"  ventured  Mary,  "  he  has  had 
everything,  and  come  safely  out  of  it.  Let 
us  hope  so." 

"  I  think  I  shall  buy  him  to-morrow,  and 
put  him  in  Mr.  Jacobs's  barn,  and  get  Zero 
to  take  care  of  him,"  proceeded  Corona. 
"  It  will  be  a  great  comfort  to  have  de 
cided  on  a  horse  who  could  be  driven  with  a 
skein  of  sewing-silk  and  who  is  not  afraid  of 
the  Last  Trumpet,  and  especially  one  who 
would  go  for  the  doctor  in  twelve  miles  a 
minut3." 

"  Was  it  twelve  miles  a  minute  f  "  asked 
Mary,  looking  a  little  puzzled.  "  And  — 
why,  there,  Corona,  look  there  !  No.  Look 
here.  — What  upon  earth  is  the  matter  with 
this  horse  ?  How  queerly  he  acts  !  " 


52  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

"  He  does  act  a  little  queerly,"  admitted 
Corona. 

"  He  does  n't  seem  to  feel  right  about  the 
leg  there." 

"  It  is  true,  he  does  n't ;  he  seems  to  jerk 
it  a  good  deal,"  faltered  Corona.  "  I  don't 
know  what  it  means,  I  'm  sure." 

"  Do  you  think  he 's  harnessed  right  ?  " 
queried  Mary.  They  were  in  a  very  lonely 
place,  two  miles  from  a  man. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  I  know  it  is  n't  the  harness. 
I  can  harness.  I  would  n't  take  a  lady  to 
drive  if  I  could  n't.  I  declare  !  how  this 
horse  does  act !  I  wonder  if  he  has  n't  got 
the  outs,  after  all?" 

"  He  looks  like  one  of  those  wooden  jump- 
ing-jacks  you  put  in  children's  Christmas 
stockings,"  observed  Mary,  more  courageously. 

"  He  does  seem  uncomfortable,"  assented 
Corona.  a  But  I  don't  see  that  we  can  do 
anything  but  drive  back  and  ask  somebody." 

"  Let  us  ask  the  first  man  we  meet,"  sug 
gested  Mary.  "  He  is  likely  to  be  unpreju 
diced." 


GOOD  FAMILY  HORSES.  53 

"  Very  well,"  assented  Corona  again.  "  But 
if  I  had  '  The  Horse  and  his  Habits '  here  — 
I  left  it  at  home." 

The  first  man  they  met  was  a  letter-carrier. 
It  is  one  of  the  salient  points  of  Fairharbor 
that  you  meet  letter-carriers  in  the  wilderness 
almost  anywhere,  just  as  you  meet  lamp 
posts  in  the  forest ;  and  that  the  government 
kindly  supplies  them  (I  mean  the  carriers) 
with  little  open  buggies  to  ride  in. 

At  the  foot  of  the  long  sandy  hills,  in  the 
beautiful  width  of  marsh  and  thicket  and 
pools  of  bright  green  water,  with  the  sea  at 
their  backs  and  the  city  two  miles  away  at 
their  faces,  the  two  ladies  met  the  letter-car 
rier  in  his  carriage,  and  asked  him  what  ailed 
their  horse. 

"  He  seems  to  hitch  his  leg  up  and  down 
in  a  singular  manner,"  said  Mary,  apologet 
ically. 

"  I  have  n't  paid  for  him,"  cried  Corona, 
hastily.  "  I  thought  I  'd  like  to  ask  some 
stranger  what  he  supposed  ailed  him.'3 

The   carrier   leaned  out   luxuriously  from 


54  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

the  open  buggy,  and  gave  one  languid  look 
at  Pepper's  right  hind  leg. 

"  Hain't  bought  him,  ye  say  ?  "  with  a  gen 
tle  smile. 

"  Oh?  no  ;  not  at  all.  But  I  had  thought 
I  should  until "  — 

"  I  would  n't  if  I  was  you/'  observed  the 
carrier,  driving  on. 

Without  offering  any  further  information 
the  officer  of  government  departed,  and  left 
the  ladies  and  Pepper  to  their  reflection. 
Corona  said  she  should  drive  straight  to  the 
omnibus  man  and  ask  what  was  the  matter 
with  that  horse.  She  did  so,  as  quickly  as 
possible ;  Pepper  meanwhile  striking  out  ob 
liquely  and  transversely  at  the  sweet  summer 
air  in  a  very  unpleasant  and  irregular  manner. 

"  He  ?  Oh  !  He  's  got  the  spring-halt," 
said  the  omnibus  man.  "  I  know  him.  He  's 
had  it  for  years." 

"  The  string-halt  ? "  said  Corona  to  Mary 
as  they  walked  home.  "  I  don't  seem  to  re 
member  the  string-halt.  I  don't  believe  it  is 
in  my  book." 


GOOD  FAMILY  HORSES.  55 

"  You  '11  remember  it  now/'  said  Mary. 

As  Corona  did  not  purchase  that  handsome 
horse,  she  was  fain  to  look  about  a  little 
more.  She  received  a  letter  that  interested 
her  from  a  person  in  a  neighboring  village, 
who  said  he  had  a  horse  for  sale  which  he 
was  sure  would  please  her.  It  was  just  the 
horse  for  a  lady  to  drive.  He  hoped  she  would 
give  him  a  call.  He  would  be  honest  with 
her,  —  he  always  meant  to  be  honest  with  a 
lady,  —  and  tell  her  there  was  one  objection  to 
the  horse :  he  was  n't  exactly  handsome  ;  but 
he  had  points  enough  to  make  up  for  that, 
especially  as  a  lady's  horse.  In  particular,  he 
was  very  kind.  Corona's  faith  in  the  com 
mercial  value  of  beauty  having  received  a 
shock,  she  was  inclined  to  look  up  the  horse 
who  owned  to  being  not  exactly  handsome ;  so 
she  and  Mary  drove  to  the  neighboring  vil 
lage  —  known  by  the  beautiful  Indian  name 
of  Carriesquall  —  to  see  the  homely  horse. 

He  proved  to  be,  indeed,  no  Adonis  ;  but 
he  looked,  as  his  owner  averred,  kind.  In 
fact,  he  did  not  look  much  but  kind,  if  one 


56  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

told  the  truth.  He  was  big,  burly,  gray,  and 
serious.  He  had  a  philosophical  air,  and  re 
garded  Corona  with  the  manner  of  one  who 
could  teach  her  a  few  abstract  truths,  if  he 
thought  it  worth  his  while. 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  Corona,  "  we  have  trav 
eled  fourteen  miles  to  see  your  horse.  Is 
this  he  ?  " 

"  This  is  he,"  was  the  proud  reply.  "  There 
is  n't  a  better  horse  in  all  Carriesquall,  for  a 
lady's  horse,  than  that  there  horse.  He  's 
just  as  kind  "  — 

"  What 's  his  name  ?  "  asked  Corona. 

"  Wall,  we  call  him  the  Old  Army.  But 
you  ken  call  him  most  anything  you  choose. 
After  you  've  bought  him." 

"  Was  he  in  the  army  ? "  cried  Mary. 
"  How  interesting  !  Was  he  wounded  ?  " 

"He  was  left  for  dead,"  said  Old  Army's 
master,  solemnly.  "  His  master,  which  was 
a  major-general,  never  expected  to  get  him 
home  alive." 

"  But  he  did  ?  "  asked  Mary,  breathlessly, 
quite  forgetting  herself. 


GOOD  FAMILY  HORSES.  57 

"  Yes,  marm.  He  did.  That  there  is  the 
very  horse.  And  he 's  as  kind  "  — 

"  He  looks  kind/'  observed  Corona,  ten 
derly.  «  How  old  is  he  ?  " 

Truth  compels  me  to  state  that  it  had  not, 
up  to  this  moment,  occurred  to  her  that  the 
military  career  of  Old  Army  in  the  Civil  War 
could  have  any  disadvantageous  connection 
with  his  age.  To  put  it  delicately,  was  it  not 
one  in  which  she  herself  shared  ?  Had  not 
she,  too,  lived  out  the  War?  And  did  it 
seem  other  than  year  before  last  since  she 
bade  Tom  good-by  in  the  dark,  on  the  pi 
azza,  at  their  father's  house  ?  Handsome 
boy  !  How  brave  he  looked,  with  that  quiver 
in  the  lip  that  kissed  her  !  And  was  it  more 
than  last  year  that  she  caught  him  to  her 
heart  again  ?  Safe,  safe,  safe,  thank  God  — 
and  fought  it  through  !  No.  She,  too,  had 
"  been  through  the  War,"  and  to  her,  too,  as 
to  all  others  like  her,  it  was  a  living,  palpi 
tating  present,  on  which  age  could  lay  no 
hand.  A  quarter  of  a  century  since  Tom's 
regiment  marched  away  ?  A  quarter  of  a  cen- 


58  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

tury  since  she  snatched  the  list  of  "  Killed, 
Wounded,  Missing*  in  the  blurring,  shak 
ing  paper  every  day  ?  A  quarter  of  a  cen 
tury  since  — 

"  He  's  just  as  kind  "  — the  master  of  Old 
Army  was  saying  very  distinctly.  Corona 
started,  and  begged  his  pardon  —  and,  Mary, 
did  you  speak?  What  is  the  price,  sir,  of 
this  kind  and  patriotic  horse  ?  A  price  was 
named ;  but  Corona  did  not  listen,  did  not 
hear.  She  and  Old  Army  regarded  each 
other  closely.  She  looked  into  the  eyes  of 
the  ancient  warrior.  She  stroked  his  cheek 
tenderly.  She  wanted  him.  But  the  veteran 
responded  to  her  gaze  with  a  deep  and  intel 
ligent  look.  He  knew  better  than  that.  If 
ever  a  horse  tried  to  say  to  a  purchaser,  — 
"  Don't  do  it !  You  're  very  complimen 
tary,  and  I  appreciate  it,  but  don't  you  do 
it !  "  that  horse  then  and  there  essayed  to  do 
that  thing. 

"  How  much  did  you  say  ?  "  asked  Corona, 
coming  slowly  to  herself,  and  trying  to  look 
like  "  The  Horse  and  his  Habits  "  bound  in 


GOOD  FAMILY  HORSES.  59 

two  volumes  at  Old  Army's  master,  who  re 
plied  that  he  had  said  one  hundred  and 
eighty  dollars. 

"  That  seems  a  large  price  for  so  old  a 
horse." 

"  Oh  !  he  was  only  ten  come  last  March," 
said  Old  Army's  master,  confidently.  "  He 
ain't  what  you  'd  call  old  yet." 

"  He  is  n't  exactly  young,  you  know,"  de 
murred  Corona,  politely. 

"  Wall,  I  did  n't  suppose  you  was  after  a 
colt, — for  a  lady's  horse.  There  's  this  about 
a  good,  mature  horse,  you  know.  He  's  had 
the  measles  and  all  those  juvenile  diseases. 
You  're  sure  he  has  n't  got  'em  to  go  through 
again." 

Mary  hastily  said  that  she  thought  this 
was  a  great  point. 

"  How  many  miles  does  he  make  ?  "  asked 
Corona,  pursuing  her  inquiries  more  rigor 
ously,  now,  by  force  of  reaction  from  that 
vision  of  a  score  of  years  ago.  Smoke,  blood, 
butchery,  the  arms  thrown  up  in  falling,  the 
flag  flung  to  the  bright  sky  above  it  all,  — 


60  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

let  it  pass.  Let  come,  as  come  it  must,  and 
pass.  Through  the  red  and  awful  mist  how 
pathetically  look  out  the  eyes  of  these  dumb 
things  that  we  made  soldiers  of,  who  learned 
the  deadly  skill  of  war,  acquired  its  valor, 
bore  its  tortures,  earned  its  glory  they  knew 
not  how,  and  died,  they  knew  not  why  ! 

"  How  fast,"  proceeded  Corona,  bringing 
herself  violently  back,  —  "  how  fast  can  Old 
Army  go,  on  an  average  ?  " 

"  Wall,  he  ain't  a  racer"  reluctantly. 

"  I  perceive  that.  But  how  much,  for  in 
stance,  will  he  make  an  hour?  What  kind 
of  a  roadster  is  he  ?  " 

"  Wall,  he  don't  go  so  very  fast.  But 
he  's  an  excellent  lady's  hoss.  He 's  just  as 
kind  "  — 

"  I  don't  underrate  his  kindness.  But  what 
I  want  to  know,  before  I  purchase  that  horse, 
is,  exactly  how  much  time  you  can  get  out  of 
him." 

"  If  you  feed  him  well  ?  "  hopefully. 

"  Oh,  yes  !     If  you  feed  him  very  well/' 

"  And  don't  over-use  him  ?  " 


GOOD  FAMILY  HORSES.  61 

"  Never." 

"  Give  him  twelve  quarts  a  day  and  his 
hay?" 

"  Certainly.  Fourteen,  if  he  wishes  it  and 
can  work  for  it." 

«  Wall,"  -  -  slowly.  «  Wa-al,"  faintly. 
"  He  's  an  excellent  lady's  hoss.  And  he  's 
as  kind —  But  he  ain't  so  much  on  speed 
as  some  bosses  is.  Fact  is,  he  won't  " — 

"Well?     He  won't "- 

"  Why,  the  fact  is,  he  won't  trot  at  all !  " 


IV. 

THE    LADY    OF    SHALOTT. 

"  THERE  's  ben  a  horse-man  here  to  see 
you/'  said  Puelvir.  "  Three  of  him.  I  sent 
the  fust  one  off  myself." 

"  Why,  Puelvir  !  " 

"  Well,  I  did.  He  had  a  sort  of  shiny, 
skity,  graham-flour  colored  horse  he  said  he 
was  sure  you  'd  buy.  So  I  asked  the  grocer 
when  he  come,  and  he  said  the  critter  had  the 
ganders.  He  said  he  'd  known  him  ever  since 
him  and  the  horse  were  babies." 

"  Didn't  he  say  the  glanders,  perhaps,  Puel 
vir?" 

"  No  'm/'  said  Puelvir  stoutly.  "  This  horse 
had  the  ganders ;  I  'm  sure  of  it.  So  I  took 
it  upon  myself  to  tell  him  it  was  n't  your  re 
ception-day,  and  you  could  n't  see  fashionable 
callers.  So  he  went  away.  He  swore  at  me, 
too." 


THE  LADY  OF  SHALOTT.  63 

"  Swore  at  you,  Puelvir  ?  " 

"  Yes.  He  said  I  was  a  darned  old  fool. 
I  don't  know's  I  blame  him.  I  hadn't  got 
my  switch  on,  and  I  think  I  do  look  a  little 
mature  mornin's.  The  next  one,  he  come  to 
the  front  door  and  sot  down  in  the  parlor,  do 
my  best.  He  said  he  'd  wait  for  you,  'n  there 
he  sot.  He  had  a  span  he  wanted  you  to 
buy.  I  told  him  you  could  n't  keep  a  span, 
because  you  had  n't  only  me,  and  I  could  n't 
take  care  of  two ;  it  would  interfere  with  the 
cookin'.  He  asked  eight  hundred  and  twenty, 
five  dollars  for  'em.  I  asked  him  what  he 
took  you  for." 

"  Dear  me,  Puelvir  !  You  do  turn  them 
off  easily." 

"  Well,  this  one  took  the  life  out  of  me. 
He  sot,  an'  sot.  I  warn't  agoin'  to  leave  him 
alon'  in  the  parlor,  so  I  sot  too.  He  looked 
at  the  picters  and  the  photograph  albums  'n 
he  said  he  'd  heard  you  was  quite  well  along 
in  years  ;  but  he  'd  never  had  the  pleasure  of 
seem'  you  to  make  your  acquaintance.  I  told 
him  you  was  only  twenty-five,  and  had  re 
fused  more  offers  than  any  lady  I  knew  of." 


64  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

"  Why,  Pue/vir  !  " 

"  I  did.  I  knew  the  kind  of  feller  I  'd  got 
hold  of.  There  warn't  no  other  way  to  teach 
him  manners.  He  kinder  meeked  down  after 
that.  So  by  and  by  I  told  him  I  'd  got  a  pud- 
den'  to  make,  and  that  you  'd  gone  to  Carrie- 
squall  to  buy  a  horse  you  liked,  so  he  'd  have 
to  excuse  me.  So  I  showed  him  the  door, 
and  he  drove  his  span  away,  spilin'  for  a 


It  was  in  the  midst  of  these  agitating  and 
depressing  days  that  there  came  a  telegram 
from  Tom.  It  was  dated  :  — 

"  UNION  PACIFIC  RAILWAY, 
Latitude  and  Longitude  unknown, 
June  —  ,  18  —  ." 

and  ran,  — 

"  If  there  is  a  man  in  Fairharbor  you  can 
trust,  trust  him.  Have  known  good  horses 
got  that  way.  Can't  get  back  till  August. 

«  TOM." 

Corona  filed  the  telegram  for  reference,  and 
meanwhile  pursued  her  search,  with  various 
and  serious  results.  All  the  poetry  of  life  was 


THE  LADY  OF  SHALOTT.  65 

now  crushed  under  the  mailed  feet  of  horses. 
The  glamour  of  the  sea  and  shore  fled  before 
the  whip  of  the  jockey.  She  wondered  how 
long  it  would  take  whatever  comfort  she  did 
get  out  of  her  horse,  when  she  got  him  at  all, 
to  compensate  for  the  loss  of  spiritual  tone 
which  a  month  of  horse-hunting  had  cost  her ; 
and  then  it  occurred  to  her,  perhaps  for  the 
first  time  quite  intelligently,  to  wonder  how 
it  was  with  people  who  had  to  occupy  them 
selves  with  matters  which  interfered  with  the 
spiritual  tone,  and  how  fair  it  was  to  try  them 
on  the  same  sort  of  keyboard  or  tuning-fork 
by  which  one  would  set  the  moral  music  of 
different  lives. 

She  pursued  these  very  natural  reflections 
with  the  zest  of  novelty,  while  she  and  Mary 
drove  all  about  the  wonderful  Cape  in  the 
long  summer  days.  For  still  they  rode  and 
rode.  They  rode  with  pretty  horses  and  ugly 
horses,  serious  horses  and  frivolous  horses,  safe 
horses  and  dangerous  horses.  There  was  one 
that  went  to  sleep  in  the  harness  while  they 
were  doing  errands,  and  snored.  There  was 


66  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

one  which  they  decided  to  buy,  and  the  bar 
gain  was  all  but  irrevocably  closed,  when  Old 
Father  Morrison  rowed  the  length  of  the  Har 
bor  against  a  head  wind,  and  arrived  in  an 
exhausted  condition  just  in  time  to  say  that  he 
knew  a  man  who  knew  another  man  who  said 
his  diseased  wife's  sister  used  to  own  that 
horse,  and  then  he  was  spavined  and  blind  in 
one  eye.  There  was  one  very  interesting  an 
imal  that  Mary  took  a  fancy  to,  and  he  died 
of  an  attack  of  the  heaves  while  they  were 
driving  in  the  woods,  six  miles  from  home. 
Mary  thought  he  had  the  whooping-cough,  and 
declared  the  trouble  was  that  the  horse  was 
too  young.  There  was  another  which  deeply 
attracted  Corona,  but  when  her  interest  in  him 
had  reached  an  advanced  stage,  one  pleasant 
morning  he  had  the  blind  staggers,  and  ran 
away  with  them,  and  threw  them  both  out  into 
a  blackberry  thicket,  and  the  owner  sent  in  a 
bill  for  the  buggy. 

Matters  were  in  this  discouraging  position 
when,  one  day,  Puelvir  said  a-  very  pleasant- 
complected  gentleman  had  come  to  see  about 


THE  LADY  OF  SHALOTT.  67 

a  horse,  and  she  had  told  him  her  mistress 
would  be  down  directly.  When  Corona  an 
swered  this  summons,  she  was  surprised  to  find 
an  old  Fairharbor  acquaintance  who  had 
moved  to  a  neighboring-  town,  and  whom  she 
had  not  seen  for  some  time.  His  name  was 
Thumb,  Mr.  Thumb.  He  was  a  carpenter. 
She  greeted  him  cordially.  Had  he  not  once 
been  a  neighbor  ?  And  Fairharbor  neighbors 
all  wore  a  kind  of  glamour  to  Corona.  Each 
one  seemed  to  belong  to  her,  to  compose  her 
life  in  concentric  layers,  as  the  rings  compose 
a  tree. 

"  I  did  n't  know 's  you  'd  recollect  me," 
said  Mr.  Thumb. 

Corona  assured  him  that  she  had  never  for 
gotten  him. 

"  I  heard  tell  you  wanted  a  horse,"  said  Mr. 
Thumb. 

Corona's  heart  sank  ;  but  she  admitted  the 
fact. 

"  Hain't  been  very  lucky,  have  ye  ?  " 

Not  very.  But  she  hoped  to  succeed  in 
time. 


68  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

"  Do  you  remember  my  little  boy?"  asked 
the  old  neighbor,  abruptly. 

"Oh!  perfectly/'  said  Corona.  "Which 
little  boy  ?  Bob,  or  Freddy  ?  Or  Benjamin 
Franklin,  or  "  — 

"  Not  any  of  them"  interrupted  the  father. 
"  I  mean  my  other  little  boy,  my  little  dwarf 
boy." 

"  Ah  !    Yes,  indeed,  I  do." 

"  The  little  deformed  fellow,  —  hunch-back, 
they  called  him." 

"  Of  course  I  remember  him.  Tommy, 
was  n't  he  ?  " 

"  Yes,  marm,  Tom  was  his  name.  It  was 
a  very  unf ort'nate  name.  But,  you  see,  me  'n 
his  mother  did  n't  know  he  was  going  to  be 
like  that  when  we  named  him,  and,  seeing  he 
was  christened  so,  his  mother  did  n't  like  to 
alter  it ;  for  she  's  pious,  being  a  perfessor. 
He  minded  his  name,  I  think,  some.  It  made 
him  shy  of  the  other  children.  He  always 
liked  to  be  round  a  house  with  women  folks." 

"Yes,  I  remerVr,"  said  Corona,  softly, 
"  He  was  a  dear  little  fellow.  How  is  he 
now?" 


THE  LADY  OF  SHALOTT.  69 

"  Do  you  remember  how  you  used  to  have 
him  over  to  see  you  when  you  was  a  summer 
boarder,  before  you  ever  built,  or  his  moth 
er  'n  me  moved  out  o'  town  ?  " 

"  I  had  almost  forgotten  that.  I  only  re 
member  what  a  dear  little  gentle  thing  he 


was." 


"Wall,  you  did.  You  used  to  ask  him 
over  to  sit  in  your  hammock  and  play  picture- 
books  on  your  floor.  He  was  very  fond  of 
you." 

"He  said,"  added  Mr.  Thumb,  after  a 
pause,  "  that  he  felt  like  other  boys  when  he 
went  to  see  that  lady.  He  liked  you.  You 
were  good  to  him.  Don't  you  remember,  too, 
when  he  had  the  fever,  settin'  up  nights  with 
him  one  spell  ?  And  taking  of  him  to  ride 
when  he  got  better  ?  " 

"It  was  such  a  little  thing  to  do,"  said 
Corona,  with  her  eyes  full.  "  I  was  well.  I 
was  perfectly  able.  Anybody  would." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  v  asked  Mr.  Thumb, 
slowly.  "  Well,  I  don't  know.  But  his 
mother  and  me  remember  it.  You  made  him 


70  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

a  Jack-o'-lantern,  too ;  he  called  it  a  Jack-me- 
lantern ;  he  had  such  queer  little  ways.  So  I 
thought  I  'd  come  over  to  see  you.  I  "  — 

Mr.  Thumb  hesitated,  rose,  sat  down  again  ; 
the  color  came  all  over  his  plain,  straightfor 
ward  face. 

"  I  don't  know  how  to  say  the  thing  I  ?ve 
come  for  to  say,  now  I  've  got  here,  exactly. 
It  ain't  a  common  sort  of  business." 

"  Is  Tommy  pretty  well  ?  "  asked  Corona, 
cheerfully,  to  help  him  on. 

"I  —  guess  so,"  said  the  father,  looking 
hard  into  his  hat.  "  I  hope  the  little  fellow 's 
well  these  days.  He  died  last  March."  .  .  . 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  Corona,  in  her  quick,  impul 
sive  way.  "  Oh  !  you  poor  people  !  Oh  !  I 
never  heard  about  it !  " 

But  she  did  not  say  she  was  sorry.  Who 
could  be  sorry  for  Tommy  ? 

"  Of  course  he 's  well,"  she  whispered, 
"  and  straight,  and  —  like  the  other  boys. 
Dear  littlo  Tommy  !  " 

She  found  it  hard  not  to  say,  How  glad  I 
am !  But  a  glance  at  the  father's  face  re- 


THE   LADY  OF  SHALOTT.  71 

strained  her.  Great,  sparse  tears  were  falling 
into  the  carpenter's  old  felt  hat.  He  brushed 
them  away  with  the  back  of  his  hand. 

(Do  working-people  do  this  because  grief 
cannot  wait  for  time  to  wash  the  fingers?) 
He  brushed  away  the  tears,  and  rose  to  go. 

"  He  died  very  quick  and  easy,  marm.  No 
body  knew  what  ailed  him.  But  he  's  dead. 
His  mother  and  me,  we  miss  him  more  'n  you 
think  we  would.  .  .  .  And  when  I  heerd 
you  wanted  a  horse,  and  the  way  them 
traders  was  puttin'  on  you,  I  says  to  his 
mother,  I  '11  sell  her  my  mare,  if  she  wants  it. 
And  I  come  over  to  say  so.  Would  you  like 
to  see  her?  She  's  tied  outside." 

Corona  remembered  Tom's  telegram,  and 
she  glanced  at  Mr.  Thumb  keenly. 

"  You  are  very  good,"  she  began,  not 
knowing  what  to  say. 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Thumb,  putting  his  hat 
on.  "  It 's  not  that.  Dare  say  I  shall  sell 
the  mare  anyways  to  somebody.  I  want  the 
ready  money.  I  shall  have  to  ask  you  her 
vally.  She  '11  fetch  it,  any  time.  If  you  '11 


72  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

trust  me,  I  won't  take  a  cent  beyond  it. 
She 's  sound,  and  she 's  kind,  and  she  's  all 
I  '11  sell  for.  And  she  's  a  pretty  fair  road 
ster.  Tommy  was  very  fond  of  that  mare." 

"I  don't  sell  her  so  much  to  make  a 
trade,"  added  Mr.  Thumb,  lifting  his  head, 
"  as  I  do  because  I  want  to  sell  you  a  good 
horse.  I  says  to  his  mother,  '  She  's  been 
kind  to  me.'  If  you  feel  inclined  to  trust 
me,  ma  'am  —  You  need  n't,  if  you  don't 
choose,  you  know ;  there  's  no  obligation  to 
it.  But  you  've  been  kind  to  me,  and  I  'd 
like  to  see  you  have  a  good  horse  !  " 

"  I  think,"  he  said  again,  "  that  mebbe 
Tommy  'd  like  it  if  he  was  round,  you  know. 
.  .  .  He  ain't,"  added  the  father,  pitifully. 

The  lady  and  her  old  neighbor  looked  into 
each  other's  eyes  for  a  moment,  then  Corona 
held  out  her  hand. 

"  Let  us  go  out  and  see  the  horse,"  she 
said,  in  a  low  voice.  "  If  I  like  her,  I  shall 
take  her  on  trusty  Mr.  Thumb." 

Mr.  Thumb's  eyes,  though  they  were  still 
wet  because  of  Tommy,  twinkled  pleasantly. 


THE  LADY  OF  SHALOTT.  73 

He  thought  of  his  ready  money ;  but  it  was 
without  alarm.  A  new  phrase  had  been 
added  to  the  "  horse  talk "  with  which  he 
was  familiar ;  he  repeated  it  to  himself  with 
a  decorous  chuckle. 

"  She  '11  take  her  on  trust,  will  she  ?  Come, 
I  like  that  now !  "  as  he  untied  the  mare  from 
the  clothes-post  and  brought  her  out  into  the 
road. 

She  was  a  pretty  creature.  Corona  took  in 
her  points  rapidly,  with  an  eye  which  experi 
ence  was  training  to  the  imperfect  extent  to 
which  experience  can  do  much  for  any  of  us. 
The  mare  was  a  good  color,  a  chestnut ;  she 
had  a  straight  backbone  and  broad,  solid 
hips,  a  clean-cut  hoof,  and  eyes  which  indi 
cated  that  she  carried  her  heart  in  her  brains. 
Her  teeth  said  that  she  was  about  five  years 
old.  She  carried  her  head  daintily,  had  a 
fine  and  sensitive  skin  and  an  air  of  refine 
ment,  which  tells  as  quickly  in  a  horse  as  in 
a  woman.  She  seemed  to  be  in  excellent 
health.  Mary  said  she  did  not  believe  any 
thing  would  ail  that  horse  unless  it  should  be 
nervous  exhaustion. 


74  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

Puelvir  said :  — 

66  If  you  've  got  to  have  another  critter, 
that 's  the  critter  !  " 

Matthew  Launcelot  came  out  and  sniffed 
at  the  mare's  delicate  ankles,  critically.  He 
had  taken  no  interest  in  this  horse  business ; 
it  had  filled  him  from  the  first  with  a  melan 
choly  which  at  times  amounted  to  misan 
thropy  ;  he  turned  his  back  after  a  moment's 
inspection,  with  the  air  of  a  connoisseur  whose 
opinion  was  undervalued ;  returned  to  the 
parlor  sofa  in  disdain ;  then  suddenly,  seem 
ing  to  be  overcome  by  emotion  more  powerful 
than  mere  social  prudence  could  manage,  he 
darted  out,  planted  himself  directly  in  front 
of  the  horse,  eyed  her  with  savage  intentness, 
and  proceeded  to  lift  up  his  voice  in  a  series 
of  prolonged  and  deafening  howls,  which 
reverberated  from  cliff  to  bowlder  with  the 
force  of  anguish  bursting  from  a  soul  misun 
derstood. 

"  The  creetur  's  jealous  of  the  critter," 
said  Puelvir.  "  I  would  n't  have  s'posed  he 
had  the  brains.  I  think  the  more  on  him." 


THE   LADY  OF  SHALOTT.  75 

Corona  patted  the  dog,  who  received  her 
caresses  scornfully ;  but  she  looked  into  the 
eyes  of  the  horse  herself  with  a  premonition 
that  was  half  sadness. 

"  Shall  I  love  you  too  ?  "  she  thought.  For 
Corona  had  learned  that  increase  of  love  is 
always  increase  of  sympathy,  and  hence  of 
pain  ;  and  that  it  was  a  toss-up  in  the  dice  of 
fate  whether  so  much  as  the  heart  of  a  dumb 
thing  is  to  be  won  without  more  cost  than 
comfort.  The  ladylike  horse  returned  her 
gaze  with  a  certain  solemnity.  She  seemed 
to  say  she  understood.  She  seemed  to  say  : 

"  On  the  whole,  does  n't  it  pay  ?  " 

"  I  '11  try  her  on  the  T)each,"  said  Corona, 
abruptly. 

She  took  the  mare  out  for  an  hour ;  she 
would  let  nobody  go  with  her  ;  she  felt  that 
they  must  understand  each  other  by  them 
selves.  The  pretty  creature  was  an  excellent 
roadstar.  She  had  her  little  fears  and  tre 
mors  and  frolics,  as  any  horse  of  spirit  ought 
to  have  ;  but  she  yielded  to  the  voice,  and 
knew  no  tricks.  Corona  came  home  in  love, 


76  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

—  hopelessly  in  love,  and  in  chains  to  the 
little  pony.  She  preserved  her  worldly  pres 
ence  of  mind  so  far  as  to  say  that  she  would 
keep  the  horse  in  a  neighbor's  stable  for 
twenty-four  hours  on  trial,  with  Mr.  Thumb's 
permission  ;  but,  in  fact,  she  meant  to  buy, 
and  he  knew  she  meant  to.  The  deed  was 
practically  done. 

"  What  is  her  name,  Mr.  Thumb  ?  "  asked 
Corona,  at  the  last  moment,  as  Mr.  Thumb 
prepared  to  catch  the  ferry  to  catch  the  train 
that  would  take  him  home  without  the  mare. 

"  We  called  her  Betty,"  said  Mr.  Thumb, 
apologetically. 

"  I  shall  call  her  the  Lady  of  Shalott,"  said 
Corona,  decisively. 

"  The  what  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Thumb,  with  his 
mouth  open.  "  The  Lady-as-she-Ought  ? 
Well.  Don't  know  's  1  ever  heard  a  horse 
called  by  that  name  before.  Don't  know  but 
it  becomes  her,  too.  Tommy  called  her 
Betty  ;  that 's  all." 

"  I  might  call  her  the  Lady  Betty,  half  the 
time,"  said  Corona,  quickly,  "  just  to  remem- 


THE  LADY  OF  SHALOTT.  77 

ber  Tommy  by.  She  shall  always  be  Betty 
to  you,  Mr.  Thumb.  When  do  you  want 
your  ready  money,  if  I  keep  the  horse  ?  I 
shall  have  to  go  to  Boston  to  get  it.  Will 
day  after  to-morrow  do  ?  " 

Mr.  Thumb's  face  lighted  with  the  gleam 
that  never  was  on  sea  or  land  in  Fairharbor 
commerce.  "  Day  after  to-morrow ! "  in  a 
community  where  the  lavish,  reckless  habits 
of  the  sea  invade  the  mortgaged  shore  to  an 
extent  that  makes  ready  money  a  psychical 
phenomenon,  —  "  day  after  to-morrow !  " 

"  I  would  n't  put  ye  out,"  said  Mr.  Thumb, 
hurrying,  radiant,  home  to  tell  it  all  to  Tom 
my's  mother. 

"  Day  after  to-morrow  !  "  said  Mary.  "  I  'm 
afraid  it  will  be  hot.  But  I  '11  go  with  you." 

"  Day  after  to-morrow  !  "  echoed  Puelvir. 
"  I  '11  cook  a  cabbage  and  have  a  biled  dinner, 
while  I  get  the  chance,  and  nobody  nigh  to 
hender." 

It  happened  that  the  little  family  thus  idly 
went  about,  each  repeating  the  words  with 
some  trifling  personal  emphasis  of  her  own. 


78  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

"  Day  after  to-morrow  !  "  as  each  afterward 
remembered. 

"  When  do  you  want  me  to  begin  to  work 
for  wages  ?  "  asked  Zero,  as  he  took  away  the 
Lady-as-she-Ought  to  get  her  dinner.  "  Day 
after  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  Here  's  another  of  them  Christian  Union 
Telegrabs,"  said  Puelvir,  coming  into  the  par 
lor  that  evening  with  her  switch  on  and  her 
white  apron.  "  The  boy  wants  twenty -five 
cents,  he  says,  for  bringing  of  it  down.  I  told 
him  I  'd  give  him  five,  for  you  supported  the 
Company,  and  they  'd  ought  to  deliver  their 
own  goods,  like  other  folks  do." 

The  telegram  was  from  Tom.  It  was  dated 
in  Canada,  and  said  :  — 

"  Can  have  my  old  buggy  and  second  har 
ness.  Welcome.  Tell  Patrick  freight  Fair- 
harbor.  Home  in  three  weeks.  TOM." 

"  Dear  Tom  !  "  said  Corona.  "  The  Holy 
Catholic  Inquisition  could  not  compel  him  to 
write  me  a  letter.  He  says  it  is  so  much 
cheaper  to  telegraph.  But  he  does  remem 
ber." 


THE  LADY  OF  SHALOTT.  79 

She  went  singing  about  The  Old  Maid's 
Paradise  that  evening  ;  her  heart  felt  warm 
and  human,  and  what  Puelvir  would  call 
"like  folks."  She  held  Matthew  Launcelot 
lovingly,  and  told  him  the  Lady  of  Sliulott 
should  never  turn  him  off  the  parlor  furni 
ture  and  the  lace  pillow-shams,  nor  even  from 
the  fine  white  shawls  he  always  preferred  for 
cushions  on  muddy  days.  Matthew  Launce 
lot  kissed  her  gratefully,  and  heaved  a  long, 
long  sigh.  Those  who  love  dogs  know  how 
much  these  deep  sighs  signify  in  their  emo 
tional  history.  Matthew  Launcelot  was  very 
happy.  Puelvir  was  happy,  too.  After  her 
dishes  were  done,  she  sat  out  on  the  rocks  and 
watched  the  sun  go  down,  with  a  clean  cook 
ing-apron  over  her  head.  Puelvir  could  sing, 
herself,  when  she  was  happy.  She  sang  a 
verse  of  a  hymn  she  liked  :  — 

"  Set  ye — e — ee  your  tre — a — as — ure  i — in  the  skyes  ! 
Where  ihie — e — eeves  break  throu — ough  nor  steal  !" 

She  sang  on  a  high  and  solemn  quaver.  The 
summer  boarders,  strolling  on  the  bright,  wet 
beach,  looked  up  and  smiled  to  hear  her.  It 


80  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

was  a  gentle,  affectionate  night.  The  waves 
patted  the  grim  rocks  like  children's  fingers. 
The  sky  was  the  color  of  the  rose  which  we 
call  La  France.  The  air  was  fresh  and 
tender.  All  the  outgrowth  of  the  sea  had  a 
joyous  mood.  Peace  was  in  Paradise.  Even 
Zero  went  over  to  the  stable  to  stroke  the 
Lady  of  Shalott,  lest  she  should  be  homesick. 
(If  the  truth  must  be  told,  the  Lady  resented 
this,  because  Zero  had  been  stripping  mack 
erel.)  But  Mary  lighted  a  lamp,  and  sat 
down  in  a  halo  of  mosquitoes  to  write  to  Mr. 
Sinuous.  She  missed  him.  This  is  the  unfor 
tunate  difference  between  an  old  maid  and  a 
young  wife.  Corona  and  Puelvir,  who  missed 
nobody,  felt  that  they  had  the  advantage. 


V. 

FEE-FI-FUM    AND    I.    O.    U. 

CORONA  and  Mary  went  to  Boston  to  get 
Mr.  Thumb's  ready  money  for  the  Lady  of 
Shalott.  It  proved  to  be  a  very  warm  day. 
The  two  ladies  left  the  shore  with  the  pas 
sionate  regret  of  "  summer  people  "  doomed 
to  a  day  in  town.  To  put  off  the  short, 
straight,  sturdy  beach-dress,  and  to  put  on 
flounces  and  a  waist  with  a  lining  across  the 
shoulders  ;  to  leave  behind  the  shade-hat  that 
hangs  like  the  arch  of  merciful  heaven  be 
tween  one's  eyes  and  the  July  sun,  and  to  be 
abandoned  to  a  piece  of  lace  and  an  artificial 
flower  on  top  of  the  head ;  to  squeeze  tanned 
hands  into  tight  gloves,  and  happy  feet  set 
at  ease  by  tennis-shoes  into  new  boots  with  a 
French  heel ;  to  begin  to  grow  warm  in  the 
omnibus,  too  warm  at  the  station,  miserable 


82  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

at  the  first  stop,  desperate  at  Beverly,  dan 
gerous  at  Salem,  frantic  at  Chelsea,  and  past 
praying  for  by  the  time  one  reaches  Somer- 
ville,  —  this  is  to  go  to  town  from  Fairhar- 
bor  in  July.  To  gasp  for  one  blessed  breath 
like  a  Cape  Ann  mackerel  in  a  dory  ;  to  find 
one's  necessary  errands  dwindling  to  an  incon 
ceivable  minimum  by  the  tune  the  open  horse- 
car  conies  in  sight  of  the  Old  South  Church  ; 
to  become  convinced  before  you  turn  up  Tem 
ple  Place  that  everything  you  came  in  for  can 
wait  better  than  not  till  December  ;  to  flee  to 
Parker's  and  call  for  ice,  and  tell  the  waiter 
you  have  had  a  sun-stroke  ;  to  sit  clinging  to 
the  time-table  of  the  Eastern  Division,  for 
dear  life,  in  fierce  demand  for  an  earlier  than 
the  earliest  train  that  will  take  you  home 
again  ;  to  divide  the  blistering  moments  by 
wondering  how  the  cashier  and  head  waiter 
bear  it,  and  by  visions  of  getting  into  your 
bathing-clothes,  and  wading  out,  barefoot, 
neck-deep  into  that  great,  brown,  blessed  wave 
which  is  at  this  instant  wasting  itself  in  front 
of  your  deserted  door ;  to  vow  that  if  you 


FEE-F1-FUM  AND   I.    0.    U.   .  83 

ever  see  that  wave  and  that  door  once  more, 
the  contents  of  the  Safety  Vaults  of  State 
Street  and  the  Equitable  Building  could  not 
tempt  you  to  leave  again  till  the  first  snow 
storm,  —  this  is  to  go  to  town  from  Fairhar- 
bor  in  July. 

The  ladies  went.  It  was  warm,  —  very 
warm.  They  found  Corona's  man  of  busi 
ness.  He  looked  warm,  —  too  warm.  They 
sat  and  mopped  and  sopped  and  fanned  and 
looked  at  each  other  with  a  civil  endurance 
during  the  transaction  of  the  errand.  Corona 
felt  that  the  broker  regarded  it  as  a  very  small 
errand  to  be  troubled  with  on  a  day  like  that. 
She  missed  Tom,  who  had  been  her  usual  ad 
viser,  and  hoped  she  should  make  no  mistake 
which  would  endanger  the  financial  interests 
of  the  country. 

"  You  see,"  she  explained,  "  I  am  going  to 
make  a  purchase  to-morrow  that  requires  a 
good  deal  of  ready  money.  My  bank  account 
won't  meet  it." 

"  A  new  portiere,  perhaps  ?  Or  a  Persian 
rug  ?  "  inquired  the  gentleman,  smiling  idly. 


84  BURGLARS   IN  PARADISE. 

He  was  an  old  friend  of  the  family,  and  privi 
leged  to  a  certain  amount  of  chaffing,  in  con' 
sideration  of  the  trouble  that  friendship  (es 
pecially  a  lady's  friendship)  is  sure  to  cost  a 
business  man. 

When  Corona  told  him  that  it  was  a  new' 
horse,  the  business  man  gave  his  eyebrows  a 
Gothic  arch. 

"  Brother  select  him  for  you  ?  " 

"  My  brother  is  in  Canada.  I  selected  the 
horse  myself." 

"  Ah  ?  "  said  the  business  man.  But  he 
said  no  more.  He  knew  where  his  business 
ended  and  hers  began ;  or,  more  probably,  it 
was  too  warm  to  express  his  reflections.  They 
bubbled  and  melted  away  into  that  kind 
of  inane  and  mute  compassion  with  which  one 
regards  other  people's  affairs  in  July  in  Bos 
ton. 

"  I  must  sell  a  bond,"  said  Corona,  —  "  a 
small  bond.  I  thought  I  would  like  to  ask 
your  advice  about  it.  I  promised  to  pay  for 
the  horse  to-morrow." 

"  Good  horse  ?  "  asked  the  man  of  business, 
hesitating. 


FEE-FI-FUM  AND  L    O.    U.  85 

"  I  think  so,"  said  Corona.  "  I  trusted  a 
man  to  do  the  right  thing  by  me." 

"  Trusted  —  a  man  ?  "  cried  the  broker, 
forgetting  himself.  "  About  a  horse  ?  " 

"  I  did,"  firmly.  "  I  don't  know  that  it 
would  be  any  worse  to  be  cheated  trusting 
than  to  be  cheated  suspecting.  Would  it?  " 

"  Possibly  not/'  mused  the  broker.  He 
looked  as  if  he  had  never  thought  of  that. 

"  Assuming,  of  course/'  said  Corona,  "  that 
I  am  to  be  cheated  anyhow." 

66  Oh  !  yes/'  said  the  business  man,  prompt 
ly,  "  assuming  that,  anyhow.  But  about  this 
bond  ?  You  might  sell  your  '  Phi  Beta  Kappa 
and  Alpha  and  Omega/  —  that  Arizona  bond, 
you  know." 

"  Phi  Beta  Kappa  is  a  thousand-dollar  bond, 
is  n't  it,"  objected  Corona.  "  I  don't  want 
to  sell  a  large  investment." 

"  There 's  your  Horse  Railroad  Scrip  in 
Scatteree  ;  I  think  you  have  six  shares  of  that, 
if  I  remember." 

"  I  've  forgotten  where  Scatteree  is," 
pleaded  Corona,  with  humility.  She  was  apt 
to  forget  where  things  were. 


86  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

The  broker  reminded  her  that  Scatteree 
was  in  Yucatan. 

"  Or/'  he  suggested,  "you  could  part  with 
one  of  those  New  Jerusalem  City  6s  Water 
Loan.  They  are  selling  at —  Dick!  What's 
New  Jerusalem  6s  Water  Loan  quoted  at  to 
day  ?  One  hundred  and  seventeen  and  three 
quarters  ?  You  could  sell  for  one  hundred 
and  seventeen  and  .three  quarters." 

"  I  've  no  doubt  I  might/'  replied  Corona, 
looking  as  intelligent  as  possible,  and  trying 
valiantly  not  to  laugh  at  the  expression  of 
lady-like  vagueness,  not  unmingled  with  alarm, 
on  Mary's  face.  Mary  had  never  been  down 
State  Street  before.  Mr.  Sinuous  attended  to 
that.  "  But  I  have  a  fancy  to  hold  on  to  the 
New  Jerusalem  6s  for  a  while." 

"  In  view  of  a  rise  ?  "  asked  the  broker. 

"  Oh  !  no  ;  only  I  like  the  name." 

"  I  must  save  that/'  said  the  broker.  "  I 
must  tell  your  brother  that.  He  would  appre 
ciate  it  as  much  as  anybody  I  know.  Well, 
how  would  you  like  to  sell  —  Here  !  I  have 
it !  Have  n't  you  some  stock  in  the  '  Im- 


FEE-FI-FUM  AND  L    0.    U.  87 

mediate  Alarm  Company  for  Waking  up  Ser 
vants  by  Electricity  '  ?  No  ?  I  thought  you 
had.  Hm-m-m.  Have  you  a  few  shares  of  the 
'  Every  Man  his  own  Correspondent '  ?  That 
concern  which  has  patented  a  type-writer  to 
answer  letters  without  dictation.  That  thing 
you  wind  up,  you  know,  and  let  it  alone  ;  and 
it  goes  off  and  replies  to  everybody  in  a  neat 
circular  adapted  to  the  case,  and  no  trouble  to 
you.  It 's  quite  an  invention.  It  is  n't  on  the 
market  yet ;  but  the  shares  have  gone  up  to 
four  hundred  already.  It  is  expected  to  revo 
lutionize  modern  society.  It  is  especially  con 
structed  with  reference  to  autograph-hunters, 
I  am  told,  and  people  asking  for  advice  and 
loans.  It 's  a  great  thing.  You  ought  to  have 


some." 


"  Let  me  see,"  added  the  broker,  after  a 
moment's  thought.  "  Don't  you  own  some 
of  theFee-Fi-Fum?" 

"  I  believe  I  do,  —  a  little  ;  I  'm  not  sure 
how  much.  I  shall  be  perfectly  willing  to 
part  with  that." 

"  The  Fee-Fi-Fum  and  the  I.  0.  U.  ?  " 

"  Yes.     I  'm  sure  I  have." 


88  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

"  The  Fee-Fi-Fum  and  the  I.  0.  U.,  leased 
by  the  X.  Y.  Z.  " 

"Yes.  I  believe  it  is  leased  by  the  X. 
Y.  Z." 

"There  we  have  it,"  said  the  broker. 
"  You  had  better  sell  a  $500  bond  of  that. 
Have  you  a  record  ?  " 

Yes,  she  had  a  record ;  she  produced  it. 

"  Take  a  duplicate  copy/'  said  the  broker, 
"  in  case  of  accident.  I  '11  read  it  off  to  you. 
I  '11  trouble  you  to  write  as  fast  as  you  can  : 
'  Registered  Bond,  No.  30,075  of  the  Fee-Fi- 
Fum  and  the  I.  0.  U.?  Got  that  ?  " 

Yes,  she  had  that. 

"  And  the  I.  0.  U.,  in  Dakota?" 

"  I  had  n't  anything  about  Dakota,"  inter 
rupted  Corona. 

"  That  is  an  important  point.  Add  '  in 
Dakota.'  You  must  distinguish,  you  know, 
from  the  I.  0.  U.  in  New  Mexico.  Those  are 
4s  and  mature  in  '88." 

"  Oh  !  yes  ;  so  I  must.  So  they  do,"  said 
Corona,  with  her  keenest  State  Street  expres 
sion.  "  I  see.  I  have  it  now.  I.  0.  U.  in 
Dakota.  Go  on." 


FEE-FI-FUM  AND  I.   O.    U.  89 

"  '  Leased  by  the  X.  Y.  Z.  and  Yankosell.' 
Have  you  got  the  '  X.  Y.  Z.  and  Yanko 
sell  '  ?  '  First  Mortgage  Land  Grant,  Non-Ex 
empt,  Redeemable  in  2009.  Interest  payable 
1st  January  at  Behring's  Strait.'  Have  you 
got  all  that  ?  6  Nine  and  three  tenths  per  cent.' 
That 's  all.  Now,  you  just  get  that  bond  out 
of  your  vaults  and  take  it  to  Jump  &  Jiggles 
in  Merchant's  Trapeze.  Jump  &  Jiggles  deal 
in  Fee-Fi-Fum  and  I.  0.  U.  more  than  I  do. 
They  '11  do  it  quicker  for  you.  You  must  get 
there  before  two  o'clock.  Take  a  bank  check, 
and  be  careful  of  it.  If  anything  happens 
you  don't  get  it  sold  to-day,  and  you  don't 
want  to  come  in  again  "  — 

"  The  entire  rolling  stock  of  the  Fee-Fi- 
Fum  Railroad  Company,"  observed  Corona, 
"  would  not  tempt  me  to  come  in  again  this 


summer." 


"  I  don't  blame  you,"  said  the  broker,  sadly. 
"  I  would  n't  if  I  were  you.  In  that  case,  your 
Fairharbor  bank  will  tell  you  how  to  dispose 
of  it  on  the  spot,  I  've  no  doubt.  The  Fee- 
Fi-Fum  is  as  good  as  a  national  silver  bill. 


90  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

Almost  any  solid  business  man  in  Fairharbor 
would  be  glad  to  take  it  off  your  hands.  The 
Fee-Fi-Fum  and  I.  0.  U.  is  n't  often  on  the 
market.  People  jump  at  it.  You  '11  have  no 
more  trouble  —  a  little  bond  like  this  —  than 
you  would  with  a  check.  It 's  registered, 
which  makes  it  perfectly  safe.  But  you  might 
as  well  sell  it  if  you  have  time.  Don't  carry 
the  cash  with  you.  Better  express  whatever 
you  carry,  —  if  you  know  your  expressman. 
It 's  safer  than  a  lady's  shopping-bag.  Can 
I  do  anything  more  for  you  ?  My  regards 
to  your  brother.  Good-morning.  I  hope 
your  horse  will  be  wrorth  it.  Good-morning." 
As  luck  would  have  it,  by  the  time  the  la 
dies  had  stopped  for  Mary  to  get  some  iced 
soda,  and  to  match  some  tulle,  and  get  a 
paper  of  invisible  hair-pins,  and  attend  to 
a  few  other  of  those  imperious  errands  which 
have  to  be  done  when  one  comes  into  town 
from  seashore  in  July,  —  by  the  time  Corona 
had  obtained  her  Fee-Fi-Fum  and  I.  0.  U. 
bond  and  reached  the  office  of  Messrs.  Jump 
&  Jiggles  with  it,  the  clock  was  striking  two. 


FEE-FI-FUM  AND  I.    O.    U.  91 

and  Messrs.  Jump  &  Jiggles  had  gone.  At 
least,  Mr.  Jump  had  gone  ;  he  was  half-way 
to  the  Nahant  boat.  Mr.  Jiggles  was  just 
closing  the  door,  fanning  himself  with  his  hat 
as  he  did  so,  in  the  blasphemous  kind  of  way 
in  which  men  do  use  a  fan,  as  if  it  were  a 
cultivated  substitute  for  a  wicked  word.  But 
Mr.  Jiggles  said  that  they  never  did  business 
(in  July)  after  the  clock  struck, 

So  Corona  (remembering  the  good  broker's 
advice)  decided  to  send  her  registered  bond 
home  by  the  expressman.  It  was  the  same  ex 
pressman  who  had  brought  Matthew  Launce- 
lot  to  her  house  when  Tom  first  presented 
him  to  her,  and  before  the  dog  ran  away  and 
was  bought  over  again  by  Mary,  and  given 
to  his  mistress  the  second  time,  —  which  Mary 
has  never  known  to  this  day.  So  Corona 
naturally  felt  that  she  could  trust  the  express 
man  ;  he  seemed  intimately  bound  up  in  her 
family  history.  The  expressman  therefore 
took  her  bond  and  promised  to  deliver  it  that 
evening ;  and  the  ladies  took  the  next  train 
home  with  fervent  speed. 


92  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

As  they  came  in  sight  of  the  cottage,  full 
into  the  force  of  the  live  east  wind,  which 
broke  against  their  scarlet,  dusty  faces  as  if 
it  had  been  a  great  wave  itself,  all  the  blazing 
city  seemed  to  recede  from  their  consciousness 
like  a  dream  of  a  vast  conflagration. 

"  I  am  becoming  a  native,"  said  Corona. 
"  I  flop  back  to  this  coast  like  a  Cape  Ann 
fish  into  the  sea.  Do  you  suppose  that  broker 
is  sizzling  there  yet  ?  " 

"  It  has  been  a  little  —  warm,"  assented 
Mary,  in  her  ladylike  way.  She  felt  that  Co 
rona  overstated  things. 

Oh  !  but  it  was  cool  in  Paradise  !  It  was 
heavenly  cool  in  Paradise.  All  the  brown 
blinds  were  drawn  ;  a  warm  and  mellow  gloom 
filled  the  gray  parlor  and  the  green  bedroom. 
The  old  muslin  curtains  stirred  delicately  at 
the  open  windows,  like  sails  in  a  slowly  mov 
ing  pleasure-boat.  The  flowers  and  ferns 
about  the  house  seemed  grateful  for  the 
shade  and  water.  The  modest  upholstery 
and  all  the  little,  simple  devices  of  this  plain 
home  were  in  cool  summer  tints,  and  met  one 
restfully. 


FEE-FI-FUM  AND   I.    0.    U.  93 

Matthew  Launcelot  was  asleep  (on  his  back, 
with  all  four  paws  in  the  air)  on  a  large,  em 
broidered  linen  towel,  which  he  had  dragged 
from  the  towel-rack  and  put  directly  in  the 
draught  on  the  straw  carpet  in  the  middle  of 
the  guest-room  floor.  He  looked  at  least 
cool.  Outside,  Zero  had  the  Lady  of  Shalott 
tied  to  the  clothes-post  in  the  east  wind  to 
feed  upon  the  short  cool  grass.  Puelvir,  in  a 
light  muslin  dress,  with  an  old-fashioned  green 
sprig  on  it,  sat  by  the  kitchen  window  with 
the  fire  out.  Comforted  by  her  cabbage,  she 
was  embroidering  a  linen  night-dress,  which 
she  kept  for  fancy  work  ;  she  said  she  wanted 
one  decent  night-gownd  to  die  in  ;  she  was 
always  in  good  spirits  when  she  was  working 
on  this  garment.  As  the  ladies,  fresh  from 
their  bath,  roamed  about  the  house  in  dainty 
deshabille,  they  could  hear  her  singing  as  she 
sang  before  : 

"  Set  ?/<3-e-ee  your  £re-a-as-ure  i-in  the 
skyes,  where  £/we-ie-eeves  break  thro-ough, 


nor  "  — 


"  There  's  the  expressman  !  "  cried  Puelvir, 


94  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

interrupting  herself  at  this  point.  "  He  'a 
brought  a  yellow  package.  It  looks  like  an 
overgrowed  big  telegraph.  And  land  !  if  he 
ain't  got  my  peddler  settin'  alongside  of  him 
on  the  front  seat." 

"  Who,  pray,  is  your  peddler  ?  "  asked  her 
mistress,  hurrying  down  to  receive  her  reg 
istered  bond  with  an  agitation  which  she 
flattered  herself  passed  for  masterly  uncon 
cern. 

"  Oh  !  just  a  peddler  come  peddlin'  to 
day,"  replied  Puelvir.  "  He  peddled  a  patent 
kind  of  scented  soft  soap  to  save  a  girl  scrub- 
bin'  of  blankets  and  bed  quilts,  and  a  sort  of 
dog-food  he  wanted  me  to  buy  for  Matthew 
Launcelot.  He  was  a  very  gentlemanly  ped 
dler  ;  he  said  I  reminded  him  of  a  girl  he 
knew  that  died,  that  he  was  fond  of.  I  told 
him  that  mought  be,  but  you  was  n't  to  home, 
and  I  could  n't  have  nothin'  to  do  with  him 
in  your  absence.  He  was  sot  to  come  in  and 
get  a  drink  of  ice  water  "  — 

"  Mercy,  Puelvir  !  I  hope  you  did  n't  let 
him?" 


FEE-FI-FUM  AND  I.    0.    U.  95 

"  What  do  you  take  me  for.  Miss  Corona  ?  " 
said  Puelvir,  with  dignity.  "  He  sot  on  that 
there  coal-bin,  and  there,  I  says,  you  may  set. 
I  don't  receive  strange  gentlemen  when  she 
ain't  to  hum.  So  he  sot  on  the  coal-bin  and 
I  sot  on  the  steps,  and  the  dog  he  sot  between 
us,  and  he  raised  the  cannibal  islands.  I 
never  see  a  creetur  holler  in  my  born  days  as 
that  creetur  hollered  at  that  there  peddler. 
He  said  he  was  a  handsome  dog,  'n  Matthew 
up  'n  at  his  trousers  leg  'n  bit  a  piece  out,  — 
they  was  nice  trousers,  of  a  checkered  pattern, 
and  become  him  very  well,  —  and  then  he 
said  the  dog  was  a  dam  puppy,  and  then  he 
went  away.  He  said  he  was  tired,  and  was 
agoin'  to  get  somebody  to  give  him  a  lift  over 
to  the  city.  That 's  him.  The  expressman  's 
picked  him  up.  Yes,  it 's  him." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Corona,  coming  out,  with  an 
air  of  supernatural  lightness.  "  I  see  you 
have  brought  my  package  from  the  dye- 
house." 

"  What  ?m  ?  "  said  the  expressman. 

"  My  package  from  the  dye-house,"  re 
peated  Corona,  severely. 


96  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

"  Oh  !  yes,  marm,  yes  !  I  see.  I  've  got 
your  package  from  the  dye-house  all  right. 
In  a  hurry  for  it,  I  s'pose  ?  " 

The  expressman  winked  as  he  handed  over 
the  Fee-Fi-Fum  bond  to  the  lady.  It  was 
ill-mannered,  not  to  say  dangerous,  in  the 
expressman  ;  but  he  did  wink  visibly.  The 
peddler,  sitting  beside  him,  did  not  notice 
this,  however ;  which  was  a  great  relief  to 
Corona.  The  long,  yellow  bond  envelope, 
sealed  and  resealed  with  the  great  money-de 
partment  seal  of  the  great  Adams  Express 
Company,  passed  from  the  hands  of  the  ex 
press-driver  to  the  hands  of  the  lady.  But 
the  peddler,  unfamiliar  with  such  matters,  re 
garded  it  idly.  If  the  seal  of  Lewando  or 
Barrett  thus  protected  a  dyed  ribbon  or  an 
old  piece  of  lace,  what  was  that  to  a  peddler 
of  dog-food  and  scented  soft  soap  ? 

He  asked  Corona  if  she  would  purchase 
any  soap  ;  but  said  it  was  of  no  consequence, 
when  she  declined.  He  said  his  dog-food  — 
But  after  this  he  said  no  more.  There  came 
a  soft  pattering  upon  the  uncarpeted  floor,  an 


FEE-F1-FUM  AND  I.    0.    U.  97 

unceremonious  whisk  of  Puelvir's  petticoats, 
a  swift  glimpse  below  them  of  a  dark,  of 
fended,  blaek-and-tan  countenance,  framed  in 
white  and  green  sprigged  muslin  —  and  Mat 
thew  Launcelot  sprang,  with  one  terrible 
snarl,  upon  that  peddler  of  dog -food  and 
scented  soap.  Over  the  wheel,  into  the  wag 
on,  past  the  expressman,  upon  the  peddler, 
the  terrier,  in  a  lightning  photograph,  leaped 
convulsively.  The  expressman  laughed  and 
the  peddler  swore  ;  but  Matthew  was  in  ear 
nest.  The  horses  started,  the  wagon  reeled 
over  the  big  bowlders,  and  rattled  violently 
away  —  but  Matthew  Launcelot  held  on. 

66  He  's  gone  out  of  sight  with  'em  !  "  cried 
Pualvir,  greatly  excited.  "  I  '11  bet  he  '11  fol- 
ler  that  peddler  to  prison,  or  the  gallows,  but 
he  '11  have  another  mouthful  of  them  checked 
pantaloons.  It 's  too  bad  ;  for  they  did  be 
come  him." 

It  was  late  that  'evening  when  Matthew 
Launcelot  returned.  He  seemed  tired  and 
slsepy.  He  brought  home  a  large  piece  of 
green  checked  pantaloon  cloth,  which  he  wor- 


98  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

ried  continually,  as  if  it  had  been  a  rat  that 
would  n't  die  ;  and,  finally,  hid  it  in  the  china- 
closet,  in  an  empty  Albert  biscuit  box  he 
knew  of.  He  tried  to  put  the  cover  on,  but 
he  was  too  sleepy. 

But  Corona  paid  no  attention  to  Matthew 
Launcelot.  She  and  Mary  sat  in  the  parlor, 
with  the  door  shut,  and  held  the  long  yellow 
envelope,  sealed  with  the  seal  of  the  Adams 
Express  Company. 

"  What  in  the  world  am  I  to  do  to-night," 
demanded  Corona,  "  with  this  Fee-Fi-Fum 
and  I.  0.  U.  Registered  Bond,  leased  by  the 
X.  Y.  Z.  and  Yankosell?" 


VI. 

THE    BURGLARY. 

IT  is  a  matter  of  familiar  observation  that 
great  truths  are  epidemic.  Discoveries  go  in 
the  atmosphere.  The  conditions  of  intellectual 
climate,  which  lead  the  human  mind  to  work 
in  a  given  direction  at  a  given  time  and  place, 
compel  the  other  human  mind  across  the  world 
or  across  the  village  to  the  same  intuition, 

O  ' 

inspiration,  or  deduction,  at  the  corresponding 
season.  While  the  ladies  in  the  parlor  were 
counting  out  their  money,  the  servants  in  the 
kitchen  of  the  Old  Maids'  Paradise,  if  not 
strictly  eating  bread  and  honey  (doughnuts, 
to  be  precise,  by  means  of  which  Puelvir  was 
in  the  habit  of  bribing  Zero  to  share  with  her 
the  burdens  of  domestic  life)  —  Puelvir  and 
Zero  were  conducting  the  following  dialogue. 
Zero  had  wandered  in,  with  something  on 


100  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

what  he  called  his  mind.  But  Zero  was  nat 
urally  reticent. 

"  Puelvir,"  he  said,  after  the  sixth  dough 
nut  had  lubricated  his  reserve,  "  where  does 
she  keep  her  money  ?  " 

"  Who  put  you  up  to  that  ?  "  asked  Puelvir, 
dropping  a  goblet,  and  giving  the  boy  a  look 
which  would  have  done  justice  to  Matthew 
Launcelot  when  he  saw  the  peddler. 

"  I  lieerd  some  boys  up-street  sayin'  she 
must  have  a  sight.  They  asked  me  where  she 
kep'  it,"  replied  Zero,  in  his  listless,  honest, 
stupid  way. 

"  You  just  tell  'm,"  said  Puelvir,  "  she  ain't 
got  none.  Never  has  none.  She  's  poor,  Miss 
Corona  is,  only  she  's  too  proud  to  let  on.  You 
tell  'em  I  said  so." 

"  Yes,"  said  Zero,  gently.  "  I  '11  tell  'em 
you  said  so." 

"  She  keeps  all  her  money  in  New  York," 
added  Puelvir,  nonchalantly.  "  When  she  's 
got  a  bill  to  pay  she  has  just  enough  come 
on  to  pay  that  bill,  and  pays  it  right  away 
before  supper.  She  has  it  come  by  ex 


THE  BURGLARY.  101 

It  comes  by  telephone.  All  her  money  comes 
by  special  arrangement  with  the  Telephone 
Company.  It 's  a  new  invention  they  have  ; 
her  brother,  he  got  'em  to  do  it  for  her.  They 
don't  do  it  for  anybody  else.  Why,  she  's 
so  hard  up  she  has  to  borry  of  me.  I  lent 
her  two  dollars  yesterday ;  Miss  Mary 's  the 
same.  She  had  to  get  fifty  cents  of  me  to  pay 
the  banana  man.  All  your  wages  and  mine 
come  by  telephone,  and  there  can't  nobody  get 
the  cash  of  'ern  but  herself.  That 's  what  she 
bought  a  horse  for ;  to  go  over  to  get  'em,  she 
has  to  go  so  often.  You  just  tell  them  boys, 
now,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  Yee-es,"  drawled  Zero,  "  if  they  arx  me, 
I  '11  tell  'em.  I  thought  myself  she  must  keep 
as  much  as  twenty-six  or  seven  dollars  in  the 
house.  But  I  '11  tell  'em." 

But  Corona  and  Mary  in  the  parlor  wrere 
consulting  in  whispers.  The  bond  of  the  Fee- 
Fi-Fum  and  I.  0.  U.  lay  upon  'Corona's  lap. 

Mary  suggested  that  they  telegraph  to  Mr. 
Thumb  to  come  over  and  get  it  that  night ; 
she  thought  it  would  be  such  a  relief.  But 


102  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

Corona  replied  that  Mr.  Thumb  lived  in  North 
East  Carriesquall,  and  that  the  telegraph  had 
not  reached  —  in  fact,  would  never  reach  — 
to  North  East  Carriesquall.  They  were  in  for 
it,  she  said,  and  must  harbor  that  bond  to 
night,  at  all  events.  Neither  of  the  ladies 
felt  any  fear  of  anything  happening  to  the 
bond,  unless,  as  Mary  said,  the  house  took  fire ; 
but  the  novelty  of  sleeping  in  the  house  with 
a  registered  bond  oppressed  them.  It  was  as 
if  they  had  too  much  company,  and  no  spare 
room. 

"  I  wish  I  'd  asked  the  broker  where  to 
put  it,"  observed  Corona.  "  He  might  have 
known." 

"  What  is  the  I.  0.  U.  ?  "  asked  Mary,  med 
itatively.  "  What  does  it  stand  for  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  confessed  Corona. 

"  And  what  is  Yankosell  ?  What  does  that 
mean  ?  " 

66 1  did  know  that,"  said  Corona,  bright 
ening.  "  But  I  've  forgotten." 

"  Does  n't  anybody  know  ?  "  asked  Mary. 

"  I  never  heard  of  anybody  that  did,"  said 


THE  BURGLARY.  103 

Corona.  "  I  dare  say  the  Treasurer  does. 
I  '11  ask  Tom.  What  should  you  think  of 
putting  this  bond  in  the  parlor  stove-pipe  ?  " 

But  Mary  objected  that  there  might  be  a 
cold  northeast  storm  in  the  morning,  and  Fuel- 
vir  might  light  a  fire.  Mary  suggested  taking  a 
few  nails  out  of  the  carpet  and  slipping  it  un 
der.  But  Corona  thought  that  had  been  tried 
too  often.  She  believed  the  house  always  did 
take  fire  when  that  was  done. 

They  discussed  the  question  of  hiding  it 
behind  the  books  in  the  library ;  but  Corona's 
sea-side  library  consisted  of  a  book-case  with 
two  shelves  and  a  top  that  held  the  dictionary. 
Corona  proposed  taking  the  bond  to  her  own 
bedroom  ;  but  Mary  said  that  was  tempting 
Providence  to  commit  a  murder.  Mary  added 
that  she  thought  this  was  a  very  dangerous 
way  to  live  —  without  any  man  about ;  and 
that  she  had  had  a  letter  from  Mr.  Sinuous, 
saying  he  wanted  her  to  come  home  this  week. 

Corona  asked  if  it  seemed  to  be  any  easier 
living  without  a  woman  about.  But  Mary 
did  not  see  the  force  in  what  she  Considered 
a  feeble  joke  cast  at  a  serious  matter. 


104  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

She  talked  a  great  deal  that  evening  about 
the  loneliness  of  Corona's  unprotected  life. 

"  Unprotected  fiddle-de-dee  !  "  said  Corona, 
with  more  spirit  than  politeness. 

After  much  conversation  and  contemplation, 
it  was  decided  how  to  dispose  of  the  registered 
bond  of  the  Fee-Fi-Fum  and  I.  0.  U.,  for  that 
one  night ;  and  Mr.  Thumb  would  be  on  the 
spot  early  on  that  "  day  after  to-morrow  "  to 
which  a  single  night's  repose  would  now 
swiftly  bring  this  excited  and  wearied  family. 
The  bond  was  put  into  a  drawer  in  Corona's 
desk,  which  stood  at  the  head  of  the  sofa  in 
the  parlor  —  a  natural  and  suitable  place, 
which  both  ladies  approved  of.  Corona  locked 
the  drawer  and  took  the  key,  and  said  they 
would  say  nothing  to  anybody  —  not  even  to 
Puelvir.  They  locked  up  the  house  with 
their  usual  fidelity  ;  perhaps  with  a  little  more 
than  that ;  but  nothing  was  done  about  clothes 
lines,  or  hose,  or  hot  water,  or  any  of  those 
modern  improvements  in  burglar  alarms,  be 
cause  that  would  involve  explaining  to  Puelvir 
that  they  .were  sleeping  in  the  same  house 


THE  BURGLARY.  105 

with  a  $500  registered  bond.  They  were  all 
tired  and  went  early  to  bed. 

"  Where  is  Matthew  Launcelot  ?  "  asked 
Corona,  remembering  at  half -past  nine  that 
she  had  not  seen  the  dog  that  evening. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  he  Js  dead  or  deef/' 
said  Puelvir,  carelessly.  "  Or  mebbe  he 
mought  be  tired  wrastlin'  with  that  scented 
soft-soap  peddler  ;  but  I  can't  wake  the  critter 
nohow.  He  just  dropped  down  alongside  the 
Albert  biscuit  box  in  the  China  closet,  with 
one  of  his  paws  —  see  !  —  laid  acrosst  that 
piece  of  green-check  he  brought  home,  and 
there  he  lays.  He  's  ben  asleep  since  ever 
he  come  home.  I  tried  to  wake  him  to  put 
him  to  bed ;  but  you  mought  as  well  set  out 
to  wake  Methuselah's  mother-in-law.  It  ain't 
no  moral  use." 

"  Poor  little  fellow !  "  said  Corona,  idly. 
"  He  does  seem  tired.  Let  him  sleep." 

But  Mary's  mind  continued  to  dwell  on  Co 
rona's  unprotected  situation.  Mary's  mind 
sometimes  worked  in  a  way  peculiar  to  herself. 
When  Corona  was  passing  into  her  first  cool 


106  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

dream,  at  the  close  of  that  .warm  and  wor 
ried  day,  she  was  startled  by  hearing  her  door 
open  (it  was  not  locked),  and  Mary  glided  in, 
with  all  her  long,  bright  hair  down  over  her 
ruffled  and  embroidered  night-dress,  looking 
in  the  moonlight  (for  it  was  moonlight)  like 
a  lovely  etching  on  mellow  Japanese  paper. 

"  Corona,"  said  Mary,  "  I  just  came  in  to 
ask  a  question.  What  has  ever  become 
of-  -?" 

She  mentioned  a  name  at  which  Corona's 
placid,  healthy  heart  gave  one  bound,  and  then 
stood  still. 

"  He  's  out  West  somewhere,  I  believe,"  she 
answered,  with  magnificent  carelessness. 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Mary.  "  I  did  n't  know  but 
you  'd  kept  that  up,  somehow,  and  not  cared 
to  talk  about  it." 

"  I  don't  know  what  has  become  of  him, 
I  'm  sure,"  replied  Corona.  "  I  did  not  think 
it  best  to  keep  anything  up." 

"  I  always  thought  you  made  a  mistake, 
dear,"  said  Mary,  stooping  to  kiss  her  in  the 
faint  light.  Her  pretty  hair  fell  over  Corona's 


THE   BURGLARY.  107 

face,  as  she  stooped.  "  I  hoped  you  had  n't 
cut  everything  entirely  off." 

"  Atropos  cuts/'  said  Corona,  laughing  — 
as  women  laugh  when  they  would  n't  cry  for 
the  world  and  all  that  is  therein.  "  All  we 
do  is  to  look  on.  Don't  get  to  thinking 
about  my  old  flirtations,  Mollie,  at  this  time  of 
night.  There  !  Go  back  to  bed,  you  pretty 
creature,  and  go  to  sleep." 

So  Mary  did  ;  but  Corona  lay  long  awake  ; 
too  long  ;  so  long  that  she  was  quite  spent 
at  last,  from  sleeplessness  and  for  other  rea 
sons,  and  slept,  when  she  slept,  almost  as 
heavily  as  Matthew  Launcelot  down  below 
there,  prone  by  the  Albert  biscuit  box,  with 
one  paw  across  the  green-checked  mouthful 
of  the  peddler's  pantaloons. 

They  had  a  late  breakfast  next  morning, 
and  the  little  family  collected  leisurely.  Mary 
and  Puelvir  were  in  excellent  spirits  ;  but  Co 
rona  felt  tired,  and  Matthew  Launcelot  was  de 
pressed  and  non-committal.  He  still  slept  a 
good  deal,  and  treated  his  breakfast  of  mack 
erel  and  griddle-cakes  with  an  ill-concealed 
contempt. 


108  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

The  ladies  were  still  at  the  breakfast-table 
talking  lazily ;  Corona  had  sent  word  to  Zero 
to  have  the  Lady  of  Shalott  brought  round  to 
the  clothes-post  at  ten  o'clock  ;  Mary  had  said 
that  she  believed  she  must  go  home  before 
Sunday.  She  had  just  asked  what  time  Mr. 
Thumb  was  coming  for  his  ready  money,  when 
Puelvir  flung  open  the  kitchen  door  without 
ceremony,  and  rushed  into  the  dining-room. 

"  Land,  land,  land,   land  !  "    cried  Puelvir. 

"Somebodv  's  broke  in  !  " 

t/ 

66  Broken  in  where  ?  "  asked  her  mistress, 
without  interest.  Puelvir's  burglars  were  be 
coming  an  old  story. 

"  Broke  in  here !  That  there  two-foot 
winder  is  smashed  in.  I  never  see  it  till  this 
minute  ;  and  one  of  my  squash-pies  is  ate, 
and  some  tomayto  sauce.  There  's  been  bur 
glars  in  this  house,  this  livin'  night,  as  I  say 
these  words,  or  I  'm  a  widder  with  five,  and 
left  with  a  property  !  " 

Corona  and  Mary  looked  at  each  other. 
Corona  turned  pale,  but  she  commanded  her 
self.  She  felt  in  a  confused  way  that  some 


THE   BURGLARY.  109 

one  must  command  somebody.  She  pushed 
back  her  chair  quietly,  went  into  her  little 
gray  parlor,  and  up  to  the  desk. 

Every  drawer  in  the  desk  but  one  was  taken 
out  and  overturned.  A  melange  of  letters 
and  grocers'  books  lay  upon  the  floor.  The 
drawer  which  had  not  been  taken  out  was 
the  one  which  had  contained  the  $500  regis 
tered  bond.  It  was  quite  empty. 

The  first  thing  which  Corona  did  was  to 
call  Puelvir  —  the  only  creature  in  the  world 
on  whom  she  really  depended.  Instinct  went 
out  to  that  one  in  the  tension  of  emergency. 
She  briefly  explained  to  Puelvir  the  dreadful 
fact.  Puelvir  herself  turned  very  pale  ;  then 
the  color  came  and  came  in  waves  over  her 
gaunt,  high-cheeked,  homely  face. 

66  Miss  Corona,  if  you  'd  told  me,  I  'd  ha  set 
up  all  night  long  to  watch  your  property  ! 
And  you  KNOW  I  would  !  " 

But  Puelvir's  rebuke  stopped  here,  for  that 
moment  and  for  all  time.  She  felt  that  her 
mistress  had  been  punished  enough. 

The  three  women  shut  and  locked  the  doors 


110  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

and  searched  the  house  ;  but  the  bond  was 
gone.  They  sifted  the  mass  of  papers  with  ter 
rible  conscientiousness ;  but  the  bond  was 
gone.  Puelvir  would  seize  on  something, 
and  say,  "  Ain't  this  it,  now  ?  "  and  Corona 
would  reply  that  that  was  last  year's  fish  bill. 
Mary  would  say  she  believed  she  had  found 
it,  and  Corona  would  say,  "  That  ?  Oh ! 
that 's  nothing  but  an  offer  from  a  widower." 

o 

Then  Mary  would  snatch  up  something  else 
and  say  this  must  be  it,  and  Corona  would 
admit  that  it  was  a  rejected  Sunday-school 
book  from  a  New  Orleans  firm.  Then  Puelvir 
would  declare  she  'd  got  it  now,  and  Co 
rona  would  shake  her  head  and  file  away  her 
fire-insurance  policy.  Once  Corona  thought 
she  had  found  the  bond  herself ;  but  it  proved 
to  be  Tom's  doctor's  bill  for  the  baby  from 
New  Year's  to  April  Fool's  Day.  The  values 
were  so  nearly  equivalent  that  the  mistake 
was  natural.  But  the  bond  was  gone.  They 
looked  up  the  stove-pipe ;  they  ripped  the  car 
pets;  they  took  every  book  out  of  the  book 
case  (this  was  Mary's  idea) ;  but  the  bond 


THE    BURGLARY.  Ill 

gone.  They  examined  the  pantry,  and  the 
two-foot  window,  the  squash-pie  plate,  and  the 
tomato  dish.  But  the  bond  was  gone.  A  red 
lead  pencil  and  a  piece  of  tobacco  lay  upon 
the  woodpile.  These  were  the  only  traces  left 
by  the  burglar.  The  front  door  was  found 
unlocked.  The  intruder  had  entered  by  the 
wood-shed  window,  helped  himself  to  the  con 
tents  of  the  larder,  wandered  freely  about  the 
lower  story  of  the  cottage,  passed  safely  by 
Matthew  Launcelot,  who  had  offered  no  per 
sonal  objections  — 

"  Where  is  that  dog,  now  ?  "  asked  Corona, 
in  a  voice  destitute  of  affection. 

"  Layin'  on  your  white  muslin  wrapper  — 
the  one  I  j  ust  done  up  —  in  your  bed-room, 
sleepin'  like  a  cherubim  on  a  monyment,"  said 
Puelvir.  "  He  's  slep  like  the  sperits  of  the 
just  made  perfect  ever  since  I  shooed  him 
out  the  china  closet  come  breakfast  time." 

The  burglar,  it  seemed,  having  passed  by 
this  dangerous  animal  without  peril,  had  leis 
urely  rummaged  the  contents  of  the  table- 
drawers  —  (Corona  was  convinced  that  he  had 


112  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

read  the  widower's  love-letter  by  the  circum 
stantial  evidence  of  a  little  whiff  of  cigar 
ashes  which  tumbled  out  as  she  picked  it 
up)  —  he  had  helped  himself  to  the  $500 
bond,  comfortably  let  himself  out  of  the  front 
door  ;  and  that  was  all. 

"  Did  you  lock  the  drawer  ?  "  asked  Mary. 

"  Why,  yes.  Don't  you  remember  ?  Here 
is  the  key  in  my  pocket." 

"  Did  you  lock  the  upper  drawer  ?  "  asked 
Puelvir. 

"  I  never  thought  of  the  upper  drawer !  " 
wailed  Corona. 

"  And  he  just  pulled  it  out,  and  tucked  his 
hand  into  the  one  below,  and  took  that  there 
money  out,  and  no  trouble  to  nobody !  He 
war  n't  even  put  to  the  onconvenience  of 
breakin  a  lock  to  git  it !  " 

"  Exactly  so.  That  is  just  what  he  did/' 
assented  Corona. 

She  laughed.  The  thing  struck  her  so  that 
she  could  n't  have  helped  it,  if  ifc  had  cost 
her  all  she  owned.  She  rolled  over  on  the 
sofa,  and  laughed  till  she  cried. 


THE  BURGLARY.  113 

"  She  always  takes  trouble  that  way,"  said 
Mary,  without  laughing.  "  Come  away,  Puel- 
vir,  and  let  us  consult  what  it  is  best  to  do. 
Don't  you  think  I  'd  better  telegraph  for  Mr. 
Sinuous  ?  " 

But  there  was  no  doubt  about  it.  The 
Old  Maid's  Paradise,  taken  by  a  thief  in  the 
night,  had  been  ingeniously  robbed ;  and 
that  Fee-Fi-Fum  and  I.  0.  U.  registered  bond, 
leased  by  the  X.  Y.  Z.  and  Yankosell,  was 
gone. 

At  this  moment  Puelvir  came  in  to  say  that 
the  new  horse  was  waiting  outside  for  some 
body  to  go  to  ride  with  him  ;  Zero  was  tryin' 
to  make  the  critter  eat  an  apple-tart  and  a 
piece  of  cold  tongue  ;  and  that  Mr.  Thumb 
was  turnin'  in  the  gate,  come  for  his  ready 
money. 

"  Take  her  back,  if  you  want  to,  Mr. 
Thumb.  Take  the  Lady  Betty  back,  and 
keep  her  till  you  find  out  if  I  have  any  money 
to  pay  you.  You  may  feel  better  to  do  so." 

"  You  mean,  you   think  I  would  n't  trust 
8 


114  BURGLARS   IN  PARADISE. 

you  with  my  horse,  marm,  long  's  you  wanted 
to  keep  her  on  trial,  if  you  like  her  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  ;  we  would  n't  put  it  so.  But 
I  'm  bankrupt  to-day,  you  see.  I  can't  give 
you  your  ready  money,  as  I  said  I  would.  If 
I  should  never  recover  it,  I  don't  see  how 
I  'm  going  to  pay  for  the  horse  at  all.  I 
never  was  robbed  before.  I  cannot  form 
any  plans." 

"I  calc'lated,"  said  Mr.  Thumb,  after  a 
silence,  "I  calc'lated  to  leave  the  mare  jest 
where  she  is  till  you  send  her  back  to  North 
East  Carriesquall." 

"  Oh,  you  '11  recover  your  bonds,"  said  an 
unfamiliar  voice,  with  easy  assurance.  "  Of 
course  you  '11  recover  your  bond.  It 's  too 
thin  not  to  be  recovered." 

Corona  looked  up  in  alarm.  A  strange 
man  stood  in  the  parlor.  He  had  entered  by 
the  back  door,  strolled  through  the  kitchen 
and  the  dining-room  without  the  least  trace 
of  what  could  be  called  hesitation,  and  pushed 
his  way,  unannounced,  to  the  centre  of  that 


THE  BURGLARY.  115 

little  group  of  burgled  people.  As  he  spoke, 
he  took  an  easy  chair,  and  made  himself  at 
home  without  the  superfluity  of  an  invitation. 
After  some  thought,  he  removed  his  hat,  with 
the  reluctance  of  a  man  who  is  not  habitu 
ally  placed  where  he  feels  obliged  to  do  so, 
and  glanced  agreeably  around  him. 

"  Really,"  began  Corona,  "  I  have  n't  the 
pleasure  "  — 

But  Puelvir  was  before  her.  Puelvir  made 
one  bound  across  the  room,  gripped  the 
stranger  with  both  her  powerful  hands,  and 
before  the  ferocity  of  her  intentions  occurred 
to  anybody,  shook  the  man  (and  he  was  a 
big  man,  too)  till  his  teeth  chattered  in  his 
head  and  his  eyes  glared  from  their  sockets. 

"  Be  you  the  feller  ?  "  she  demanded. 
"  Be  you  the  burglar  that  burgled  this  here 
house?" 

"  Why,  my  dear  young  woman  "  —  gasped 
the  stranger. 

"  I  'm  not  your  dear  young  woman  !  "  re 
torted  Puelvir,  virtuously.  "  I  ain't  nobody's 
dear  young  woman.  Never  was.  Never  will 
be.  Be  you  the  burg —  " 


116  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

"  Look  a  here/'  said  the  visitor,  releasing 
himself  with  a  practiced  thrust  which  sent 
Puelvir  sitting  down  hard  upon  the  rejected 
Sunday-school  book  and  the  widower's  love- 
letter,  "  I  am  the  Fairharbor  police." 


vn. 

MR.    PUSHETT. 

"  OH  !  "  said  the  mistress  of  the  burgled 
cottage,  doubtfully,  to  the  Fairharbor  police 
man.  "  We  are  very  much  obliged  to  you. 
How  did  you  know  about  it  ?  " 

"  Know  about  it !  "  echoed  the  policeman. 
"  There  ain't  a  lobster  nor  a  stripped  mackerel 
in  the  city  don't  know  about  it  by  this  time. 
Know  about  it,  I  should  say  !  Why,  it  hap 
pened  as  much  as  an  hour  ago,  did  n't  it  ?  " 

"  It  is  just  about  an  hour  since  we  discov 
ered  our  loss,"  replied  Corona.  Already  she 
perceived  that  it  would  be  best  to  suppress 
surprise  at  anything  that  might  happen  now 
in  any  direction.  The  robbery  had  added  this 
contribution  to  her  stock  of  worldly  knowl 
edge  before  she  had  left  the  room  in  which  it 
occurred. 


118  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

"  Now/'  began  the  policeman,  immediately, 
"  show  me  the  premises.  My  name,  by  the 
way,  is  Pushett." 

Corona  meekly  obeyed  Mr.  Pushett.  He 
was  a  very  tall  policeman,  and  he  kept  bump 
ing  his  head  against  the  low  ceilings  of  the 
Old  Maid's  Paradise,  whose  sheltered  walls 
had  never  known  a  guest  like  this  before. 
The  policeman  examined  the  two-foot  win 
dow  j  he  pocketed  the  red  pencil  and  piece 
of  tobacco  ;  he  studied  the  squash-pie  plate 
with  a  professional  manner  for  a  long  time  ; 
he  gave  close  attention  to  the  tomato  dish. 
He  remarked,  at  intervals,  that  she  would  cer 
tainly  recover  her  bond.  He  said  the  red 
pencil  was  a  very  important  clew.  He  said 
the  pie-plate  indicated  that  the  chap  had  a 
good  appetite,  and  was  fond  of  squash-pie ; 
he  said  these  were  both  excellent  clews.  He 
did  not  value  the  tobacco  so  highly,  because 
so  many  gentlemen  were  smokers.  He  rum 
maged  the  house  thoroughly,  up- stairs  and 
down.  In  reply  to  Corona's  protest  that  the 
burglar  had  n't  been  up-stairs,  he  asked  her 


MR.   PUSHETT.  119 

how  she  knew  ?  He  gave  special  attention 
to  the  spare  room,  pleasantly  stating  that  he 
thought  the  fellow  might  have  slept  there. 
He  criticised  the  defenses  of  the  doors  and 
windows,  as  being  arranged  by  women-folks, 
and  all  you  could  expect.  He  examined  the 
desk  and  the  heap  of  papers  ;  he  seemed  in 
terested  in  the  widower's  love  -  letter,  and 
advised  Corona  to  put  her  insurance  policy  in 
a  safe  place. 

"  Didn't  lock  the  upper  drawers,  did  you  ?" 
with  a  slow  grin.  "  Made  it  easy  as  you 
could  for  him,  did  n't  you  ?  " 

"  I  tried  to,"  observed  Corona,  with  some 
spirit. 

"That's  right.  They  most  always  do," 
replied  the  policeman.  "  One  man  I  knew 
took  'n  put  every  dollar  he  was  worth  in  a 
safe  in  his  house,  and  kept  it  there  a  year, 
and  he  had  n't  any  bolt  to  his  front  door,  and 
one  night  four  masked  men  just  took  a  nip 
per  and  some  crow-bars  and  turned  the  key 
as  easy  as  you  'd  take  a  cork  out  of  a  homre- 
opathy  bottle,  and  took  that  safe  out  on  the 


120  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

crow-bar  and  carried  it  into  an  empty  lot 
and  blew  it  open,  and  made  off  with  every 
cent  there  was  in  it,  and  nobody  the  wiser  till 


morninV 


"  I  hope  the  poor  man  recovered  his  prop 
erty?"  said  Corona,  eagerly,  with  that  sud 
den  widening  of  the  sympathy  which  comes 
from  experience. 

"  Well,  n-no,"  admitted  Mr.  Pushett.  "  I 
can't  say  he  did  recover  anything  —  in  that 
case.  I  believe  it  has  never  been  found." 

"  Nor  the  burglars,  either  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  !  Nor  the  burglars  either.  In 
that  case." 

Corona  asked  the  policeman  why  he  felt  so 
confident  that  the  property  would  be  recov 
ered  in  her  case.  Oh  !  this,  he  said,  was  a 
very  simple  affair.  This  was  altogether  too 
thin.  All  he  'd  ask  was  one  good  clew,  and 
he  would  undertake  to  see  the  property  back 
inside  of  a  month.  This  was  very  encourag 
ing.  And  Corona  and  Mary  thought  Mr. 
Pushett  quite  an  agreeable  policeman. 

"  I  thought  you  said  the  tomayto  dish  was 
a  clew,"  sniffed  Puelvir. 


MR.   PUSHETT.  121 

"  It  was  the  squash-pie  plate,"  corrected 
the  policeman,  with  majesty.  He  and  Puel- 
vir  did  not  get  on  at  all.  "  I  referred  to  the 
pie-plate.  It  is  an  excellent  clew  so  far  as  it 
goes.  It  would  be  well  to  have  something 
more  —  as  you  might  say  —  more  illumina 
tive.  But  these  are  professional  matters,  and 
not  easy  to  explain.  Now,  Madam,"  said  Mr. 
Pushett,  waving  Puelvir  out  of  the  subject, 
and  producing  his  note-book  and  pencil,  with 
an  air  of  scholarly  absorption.  "  I  want  the 
details  of  this  case,  if  you  please  ;  all  of  'em. 
Name  of  the  bond  ?  " 

"  Fee-Fi-Fum  and  I.  0.  U.,"  replied  Co 
rona,  promptly.  She  knew  it  by  heart, 
now,  — 

"  Past  all  doubting,  truly, 
A  knowledge  greater  than  loss  could  dim." 

"  The  Fee-Fi-Fum  and  I.  0.  U.  $500  bond. 
Registered.  Leased  by  the  X.  Y.  Z.  and 
Yanko "  - 

"  Hold  on  a  minute.  That  seems  to  be  a 
fourteen-barreled  bond.  '  Yanko  ' 

«  Sell ;  X.  Y.  Z.  and  YankoseU.     In  Da- 


122  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

kota.  Be  sure  you  write  in  Dakota.  It 's 
important  to  distinguish  from  the  Yankosell 
in  New  Mexico,  which  are  fours,  and  mature 
in  '88." 

66  Did  I  understand  you  this  bond  matures 
in '88?" 

"  Oh,  no  !  It 's  the  New  Mexico  bond  that 
matures  in  '88.  It 's  a  very  important  point." 

"  I  don't  see  what  that  has  to  do  with  your 
Fee-Fi-Fum,"  objected  Mr.  Pushett. 

"  Neither  do  I,"  said  Corona,  helplessly. 
"  I  never  did.  But  the  broker  told  me  it  was 
very  important.  I  think  you  'd  better  put  it 
down."  So  Mr.  Pushett  put  it  down. 

"  Mature  in  '88.  Is  that  all  ?  No  ?  Fire 
away,  then.  We  have  n't  any  time  to  lose. 
A  burglar  might  get  to  Canada  by  the  time 
a  man  got  this  bond  recorded.  No.  30,075. 
Land  Grant.  First  Mortgage.  Non-Exempt. 
Redeemable  in  2000.  I  've  got  so  far.  2009. 
Interest  collected  1st  January,  at  Behring's 
Strait.  Nine  and  three-tenths  per  cent. 
There.  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  's  all  ? 
Discourages  me  a  little.  Any  fellow  who  's 


MR.   PUSHETT.  123 

had  the  luck  to  get  such  a  bond  as  that  is 
likely  to  be  overtaken  by  old  age  or  the  gal 
lows  before  he  can  read  it.  Now  then/'  pro 
ceeded  Mr.  Pushett,  "  allow  me  to  ask  you 
a  few  necessary  professional  questions.  I  '11 
make  'em  few  as  possible.  Where  did  you 
ladies  sleep  last  night  ?  Sleep  well  ?  Apt  to 
sleep  well  ?  What  kept  you  awake  ?  What 
did  you  eat  for  supper  ?  Callers  in  the  even 
ing  ?  Who  was  they  ?  What  was  the  ther 
mometer  on  the  piazza?  What  in  your 
room  ?  Was  the  clock  wound  up  ?  Had  you 
read  the  evening  paper  ?  What  train  did 
you  take  from  Boston  ?  How  many  times 
have  you  been  to  Boston  this  summer  ?  Are 
you  taxed  in  Fair  harbor  ?  Are  you  on  the 
voting  list  ?  What  was  the  price  agreed  upon 
for  your  house  ?  What  are  your  views  on 
Prohibition  ?  Are  you  a  woman  suffragist  ? 
Why  did  you  send  your  bond  home  by  ex 
press  ?  Which  express  ?  Driver  alone  ? 
Who  was  with  him  ?  Did  you  do  much 
shopping  in  Boston  ?  Who  's  your  broker  ? 
Where  's  your  brother  ?  If  you  'd  voted  at 


124  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

the  last  Presidential  election,  should  you  have 
been  a  Mugwump  ?  What  is  your  receipt  for 
sponge  cake  ?  Did  you  notice  which  way 
the  wind  blew  last  night  ?  Lost  a  paper  of 
tacks  in  the  last  local  robbery  ?  Easily 
scared  ?  Keep  fire  arms  ?  Many  gentlemen 
callers  at  your  place  ?  Ain't  keeping  com 
pany  with  anybody,  are  you  ?  Do  you  own 
a  dog  ?  " 

This  last  question  brought  Matthew  Laun- 
celot  to  the  foreground.  Puelvir  carried  him 
into  the  parlor  in  her  arms.  Matthew  exhib 
ited  little  interest  in  the  family  misfortunes. 
He  was  still  disgracefully  sleepy.  Puelvir 
stood  him  up  on  all  fours,  and  the  dog 
winked  and  blinked  at  the  policeman  and 
toppled  over  and  sat  down  gaping.  He  pre 
sented  at  that  moment  as  few  of  the  points  of 
a  reliable  family  watch-dog  as  any  reasonable 
mind  could  demand. 

"  Tan  terrier,  too,"  mused  the  policeman, 
"  and  good  breed.  What 's  that  the  dog  's 
worry  in'  between  his  paws  ?  " 

Puelvir  hastened  to  explain  that  it  was  a 


MR.   PUSHETT.  125 

piece  of  the  pantaloons  of  the  peddler  of  the 
dog-food  and  scented  soft  soap.  She  told  the 
story  from  her  point  of  view,  with  comments 
and  addenda  ;  but  she  told  the  story.  The 
policeman  asked  a  question  or  two  ;  mused 
for  a  moment  or  two  ;  then  across  his  coun 
tenance  there  passed  a  sudden  professional 
glow.  He  stooped  over  Matthew  Launcelot 
seductively,  and  tried  to  take  away  from  him 
the  green-checked  mouthful  of  woolen  cloth. 
But  Matthew's  jaws,  with  a  dogged  snarl, 
closed  upon  the  fingers  of  the  defender  of 
the  laws.  They  closed  quickly  and  they 
closed  hard.  Matthew's  jaws  could  shut  like 
a  patent  self-closing  safety-vault  door.  The 
policeman  withdrew  his  fingers  with  a  mut 
tered  exclamation  :  — 

"  Ma  —  dam  !  "  he  hesitated  just  a  little 
between  the  syllables  while  he  tied  his  hand 
kerchief  about  his  bleeding  hand.  "  You 
have  an  excellent  dog  there.  He  's  got  your 
clew.  He  has  been  drugged,  tremendously 
drugged  ;  dog-food,  I  should  say  !  I  am  sur 
prised  he  is  alive.  The  peddler  was  the  thief. 


126  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

Soft  soap,  he  said,  did  he  ?  The  peddler  is 
the  burglar,  and  that  piece  of  pantaloon  stuff 
will  track  him  down  anywhere  in  North 
America.  Take  care  of  your  dog.  He  will 
be  needed  as  a  witness.  It  is  a  very  neat 
case.  You  will  certainly  recover  your  prop 
erty.  I  advise  you  to  have  some  circulars 
printed  immediately.  It  won't  cost  you 
much.  Better  have  five  hundred.  We  '11 
distribute  for  you.  I  'd  offer  a  pretty  tol 
erable  reward,  if  I  was  you.  I  '11  keep  the 
red  pencil.  I  '11  thank  you  for  that  pie-plate ; 
it  had  better  be  kept  at  the  office.  If  any 
of  you  ladies  can  separate  that  dog  and  the 
peddler's  remains,  I  '11  thank  you  for  that. 
We  have  an  admirable  chain  of  clews.  Good 
morning." 

As  soon  as  the  policeman  had  gone,  Corona 
said  she  would  act  upon  his  advice,  and  im 
mediately  get  the  circulars  printed,  which 
were  not  to  cost  anything,  and  which  would 
offer  a  tolerable  reward.  So  she  ordered  the 
Lady  of  Shalott  (with  Tom's  buggy  and  the 
second  harness),  to  drive  over  to  the  printer's. 


MR.   PUSHETT.  127 

She  said  what  a  comfort  it  was  to  own  a 
horse,  and  Zero  appeared  at  that  moment  at 
the  front  door,  with  his  hat  on,  to  say  that 
the  mare  had  lost  a  shoe  off  her  sou'  by  sou'- 
west  hind  foot,  and  all  the  rest  was  loose, 
and  she  'd  got  to  go  to  the  blacksmith's. 
Zero  thought  it  would  take  two  hours,  and 
that  the  best  way  would  be  for  him  to  ride 
her  over. 

"  I  bet  nobody  '11  burgle  this  house  to 
night,"  said  Puelvir,  grimly,  when  her  mistress 
and  the  Lady  of  Shalott  returned  from  the 
printer's  at  six  o'clock  that  evening.  "  I  've 
bought  a  pound  more  of  long  shingle  nails. 
I  've  druv  one  in  most  everywhere  a  nail  could 
be  drove.  I  've  got  my  fire  up  and  three  ket 
tles  bilin',  and  my  hose  on,  and  a  row  of 
empty  buckets  setting  alongside  my  bed.  I  'm 
ready  for  'em." 

In  vain  Corona  protested  that  of  all  nights 
in  a  lifetime  this  was  the  safest  night  in  the 
Old  Maid's  Paradise  ;  that  she  would  leave 
the  doors  open  to-night,  and  all  the  windows, 
without  a  tremor  ;  that  no  family  on  the  face 


128  UURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

of  the  earth  was  safer  than  the  family  that 
had  just  been  robbed.  Puelvir  was  firm.  She 
was  almost  frightened.  Mary  was  altogether 
so.  Mary  begged  so  hard  for  a  man  to  sleep 
in  the  house  that  Corona  scornfully  yielded 
the  point ;  and  old  Father  Morrison  was  towed 
in,  and  tucked  away  on  a  sofa  bed  in  the  par 
lor,  where  he  snored  all  night  till  Paradise 
shook,  and  Mary  said  if  she  lived  till  morn 
ing  she  would  go  home  to  her  husband,  and 
Corona  could  do  as  she  pleased. 

At  eleven  o'clock  that  night  there  did,  in 
deed,  an  event  occur  which  did  not  add  to 
the  calm  of  the  occasion.  Some  one  knocked 
thunderously  at  the  back  door.  Mary  shrieked. 
Corona  put  her  slippers  on.  Matthew  Launce- 
lot  uttered  a  debilitated  bark  and  sauntered 
out  to  the  door,  wagging  his  tail  hospitably. 
Father  Morrison  slept  through  the  disturb 
ance  quite  peacefully.  But  Puelvir  filled  all 
her  water-pails,  and  dashed  the  contents  of 
three  out  of  the  window,  without  looking  to 
see  if  they  hit. 

At  this  point  the  intruder  hastened  to  ex- 


MR.  PUSHETT.  129 

plain  that  it  was  only  Mr.  Pushett ;  and  if 
the  young  woman  and  the  dog  would  let 
him  alone  long  enough,  he  'd  like  to  see 
the  lady  of  the  house  on  very  important  busi 
ness. 

"  But  I  can't  let  you  in,"  said  Corona, 
when  she  had  hastened  to  the  back  door. 
66  Puelvir  has  put  so  many  shingle  nails  in 
this  door." 

"  I  don't  want  to  come  in,"  whispered  the 
policeman  through  the  key-hole.  "  I  want 
you  to  come  out." 

"  Want  me  to  come  out  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  I  've  got  a  clew." 

"  But  I  can't  get  out !  "  objected  Corona. 
"  She  said  she  put  in  a  pound.  It  would  take 
me  all  night  to  draw  them  "  — 

"  Try  the  front  door,"  suggested  the  offi 
cer,  not  unnaturally. 

"  But  the  front  door  's  nailed,  too.  I  can't 
get  out  there,  either." 

"  I  've  heard  of  burglar-proof  houses,"  said 
the  policeman,  "  but  a  family-proof  house  I 
never  saw  before.  Calculate  to  stay  in,  do 

9 


130  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

you  ?  Looks  like  it.  Do  you  think  you  could 
get  out  a  window  ?  " 

Corona  replied  that  the  lower  windows  were 
all  nailed,  too.  She  suggested,  however,  that 
she  might  climb  over  the  piazza  if  she  had  a 
tall  step-ladder  ;  and  Mr.  Pushett  replied  that 
he  guessed  he  could  help  her  ;  it  was  dark ; 
and  she  'd  better  come.  He  added  that  he 
could  saw  through  the  house  anywhere  in 
twenty  minutes  and  let  her  out ;  but  he  was 
in  a  hurry. 

So  Corona  descended  by  the  step-ladder 
(she  was  a  pretty  good  climber),  and  the  offi 
cer  explained  that  he  wanted  her  to  ride  seven 
miles  with  him  and  see  a  man.  He  was  con 
fident  he  was  on  a  clew.  He  thought  he  had 
found  the  man.  But  he  wanted  her  to  iden 
tify,  before  he  arrested.  It  did  not  occur  to 
Corona  to  demur.  Anything  might  happen 
to  a  person  who  had  been  robbed  of  a  £500 
bond.  So  she  and  Mr.  Pushett  went  over  to 
the  barn  and  got  the  Lady  of  Shalott,  and 
drove  away  in  the  dark ;  for  the  moon  was 
under  a  thunder-cloud.  She  noticed,  as  they 


MR.   PUSHETT.  131 

rode  along,  that  the  policeman  dripped  a  good 
deal,  and  he  explained  that  one  of  that  young 
woman's  water-buckets  had  hit  him  a  little  ; 
he  said  she  was  rather  too  spirited  a  young 
woman  for  his  taste. 

The  Lady  made  excellent  time,  and  took 
her  seven  miles  in  forty-five  minutes.  Co 
rona,  as  she  and  the  policeman  sped  over  the 
lonely  country,  felt  her  heart  warm  toward 
the  pretty  horse.  It  was  depressing  to  think 
that  she  might  never  be  able  to  pay  for  her. 
But  Mr.  Pushett  assured  her  that  he  had  as 
good  a  clew  as  he  ever  got  hold  of  in  his  pro 
fessional  life.  He  said  all  he  wanted  of  her 
was  to  look  in  a  window  at  some  fellows  play 
ing  cards. 

This  sounded  easy ;  but  Corona's  heart 
sank  a  little.  She  thought  of  what  Mary  said 
about  her  unprotected  life.  She  thought  of 
those  other  things  Mary  had  said  that  night 
when  she  came  in  looking  like  a  Japanese 
etching  in  the  moonlight.  But  the  police 
man's  shoulders  were  big,  and  Corona's  pluck 
was  bigger.  As  she  rode  along  on  her  un- 


132  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

usual  errand,  through  that  memorable  mid 
night,  she  reflected  that,  after  all,  if  she  had 
any  one  to  call  on  to  track  her  own  burglars 
for  her,  he  would  probably  be  a  very  busy 
person  ;  his  rest  would  be  more  important 
than  hers  ;  and  she  should  be  perfectly 
wretched  if  she  could  not  do  such  a  thing 
herself  and  save  him  the  trouble  ;  which, 
possibly,  she  might  not  be  allowed  to  do. 
This  consoled  her  so  much  that  she  was  in 
excellent  spirits  by  the  time  they  reached  the 
window  through  which  Mr.  Pushett  wanted 
her  to  look. 

"  You  did  n't  tell  me  it  was  a  grog-shop," 
said  Corona,  drawing  back  for  an  instant. 

"  I  '11  take  care  of  you,"  said  the  officer, 
curtly.  So  Corona  and  the  policeman  drew 
near  to  the  window  and  looked  in.  Four  men 
sat  at  a  table,  in  the  ill-favored  place,  gam 
bling  for  whiskey. 

"  There  !  "  whispered  the  officer,  breath 
lessly.  "  Ain't  that  the  feller  ?  That  peaked 
one,  with  the  yellow  goatee  ?  Ain't  that  the 
peddler  ?  Just  you  look  as  you  never  looked 
in  your  born  days.  Ain't  that  him  ?  " 


MR.  PUSHETT.  133 

"  I  never  saw  the  man  before  in  all  my 
life,"  whispered  Corona.  "  He  does  n't  look 
any  more  like  that  peddler  than  he  looks  like 
the  Episcopal  minister."  The  officer's  face 
fell  over  a  precipice  two  hundred  feet  sheer. 
Was  she  sure  ?  Take  her  oath  to  it  ?  She 
must  be  mistaken.  Would  she  take  the 
trouble  to  look  again  ?  The  clew  — 

At  this  moment  the  man  with  the  goatee 
arose  and  shuffled  to  the  outer  door.  He  was 
very  drunk.  The  officer  whisked  Corona  into 
the  buggy  by  one  swift  and  mighty  whisk ;  and 
they  were  driving  quite  leisurely  by,  when  the 
man  appeared  on  the  door-step.  He  sat  down 
stupidly  for  a  minute,  then  staggered  wretch 
edly  away  ;  there  was  n't  much  of  him  even 
for  a  drunkard  ;  he  was  a  poor,  sunken,  sod 
den  creature,  soul  and  body.  He  reeled  into 
a  miserable  home  near  by.  The  officer  drove 
up  softly  and  watched  him.  A  woman  in 
a  lank  dress  came  out  to  meet  the  drunkard  ; 
she  held  a  smoky  kerosene-lamp  above  her 
head,  and  looked  at  him  ;  a  sick  baby  lay 
upon  the  other  arm,  wailing  fretfully.  The 


134  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

woman  said,  "  Joshuay,  is  that  you  ?  "  She 
made  no  comment  upon  his  condition  ;  she 
was  too  used  to  it.  He  rolled  in,  and  fell 
over  against  her  and  down  upon  the  floor ; 
she  looked  at  him  apathetically,  and  then  she 
shut  the  door. 

66  There  is  something  wrong  about  this 
clew/'  said  Corona.  "  Take  me  home,  Mr. 
Pushett." 

And  Mr.  Pushett  meekly  took  her  home. 
He  was  so  disappointed  that  Corona  felt  quite 
sorry  for  him.  The  thunder-storm  had  come 
on,  and  it  rained  and  lightened  all  the  way 
home.  The  mare  was  a  good  deal  disturbed 
at  the  whole  adventure  —  the  matter  not  hav 
ing  been  fully  explained  to  her  ;  but  she  be 
haved  like  a  Lady-as-she-Ought,  and  Corona 
reached  her  step-ladder  soaked  and  safe,  and 
climbed  back  to  bed,  as  much  impressed  with 
Mi\  Pushett's  energy  as  she  was  with  his  suc 
cess. 

In  the  morning  she  did  not  get  up  early, 
having  a  headache,  and  Puelvir  said  she  would 
send  her  breakfast  up  to  her.  Corona  no- 


MR.   PUSHETT.  135 

ticed  that  Puelvir  did  not  say  she  would  bring 
the  breakfast,  but  concluded  it  was  one  of 
Puelvir's  eccentricities.  Corona  was  lying 
half  asleep,  half  awake,  feeling  that  morn 
ing  a  little  unprotected,  after  all,  and  almost 
lonely,  —  for  Mary  had  gone  home  to  her 
husband,  as  she  said  she  should,  —  when  she 
was  startled  by  heavy  groping  foot-falls  and 
smothered  exclamations  that  seemed  to  be 
struggling  for  dear  life  with  the  breakfast- 
tray  up  the  narrow  and  unlighted  stairs.  Im 
mediately  a  big,  broad  fellow  loomed  into 
the  room,  smiling  like  a  sun-flower  across  the 
waiter,  on  which  he  had  upset  the  coffee  and 
overturned  the  butter-pat  into  the  berries  and 
cream,  and  straightway  took  her  into  his 
arms,  waiter,  pillow,  coffee,  and  all,  as  nobody 
else  in  the  world  — 

«  Why,  Tom  !     Why,  Tom  !  " 

"  Did  you  think  I  'd  leave  you  in  the 
lurch  ?"  asked  Tom,  sitting  down  on  the  foot 
of  the  bed  to  mop  up  a  few  little  trout-brooks 
of  coffee  that  were  rapidly  changing  the  to 
pography  of  the  bed-spread.  "  I  told  Puelvir 


136  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

to  let  me  bring  your  breakfast  and  surprise 
you.  She  said  you  'd  take  me  for  a  burglar, 
and  shoot.  I  told  her  I  'd  risk  your  hitting 
anybody.  I  did  n't  think  I  should  spill  all 
the  coffee." 

"  But  I  thought  you  were  in  Canada  !  Not 
to  come  home  for  three  weeks.  This  is  three 
days.  You  —  you  —  you  dear  old  —  you  — 
Tom  !  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Tom,  carelessly  ;  "  I  was 
in  Canada.  But  I  had  an  errand  over  in 
Hoboken,  so  I  saw  it  in  the  papers." 


" 


Why,  certainly.  Every  newspaper  east 
of  the  Rocky  Mountains  is  ringing  with  it. 
They  say  there  were  five,  and  you  shot  two. 
They  say  you  lost  $100,000  in  Union  Pacific 
and  Bell  Telephone.  They  say  you  were 
wounded  in  the  lungs  and  hardly  expected 
to  live.  So  I  thought  if  it  was  so  bad  as 
that,  I  'd  better  stop  over  a  train.  I  took  the 
sleeper.  I  've  got  to  go  back  by  the  4  p.  M. 
express.  I  can  stay,  —  let  me  see,  —  I  can 
stay  two  hours  and  a  half." 


VIII. 

THE   STATE    WILL    PROTECT. 

ALL  Fairharbor  was  at  her  bloom.  The 
summer  sun  made  mirrors  of  the  soft  gray 
water;  the  summer  people  started  on  the 
beach,  like  flowers  in  a  huge  parterre ;  the 
winds  were  laid,  or  low ;  the  moons  burned 
with  a  white  fire,  like  the  hearts  of  loving 
women,  and  repeated  themselves  in  the  waves, 
fair  and  unconscious,  as  love  reflects  itself  in 
deeds,  and  knows  not  that  it  does  so.  Pleas 
ure  boats,  with  colored  sails,  tinted  by  artists 
astray,  stole  by  upon  the  idle  flood  that  made 
a  merry  mock  at  them.  Voices  of  singers  on 
the  cliffs  or  on  the  water  melted  late  down 
the  silver  and  the  purple  evenings,  and  sung 
the  soul  to  sleep  with  the  power  of  old  songs. 
All  the  world  was  at  play,  or  adream.  Cares 
were  corked  like  the  Genius  in  the  bottle  in 


138  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

the  Arabian  story  ;  anxieties  and  fears  waited 
as  the  frosts  wait,  biding  their  time  ;  but  it 
was  not  the  time  of  summer  in  Fairharbor. 
Sickness  cheated  itself  with  distraction.  Sor 
row  drugged  itself  with  the  sound  of  the  tides 
that  said  :  "  Thou  art  but  another  wave  in 
the  eternal  sea."  Hope  fed  itself  upon  the 
stir  of  pleasure-seeking  human  pulses ;  youth 
tripped  to  the  time  of  the  wave-notes,  and 
love  maddened  itself  with  beauty ;  for  sum 
mer  was  on  Fairharbor. 

But  in  the  Old  Maid's  Paradise  these 
things  served  as  a  background  to  a  preoc 
cupied  family.  The  business  of  life  went  re 
morselessly  on.  Tom  had  crowded  so  much 
advice  and  affection  into  those  two  hours  and 
a  half  that  Corona  resumed  the  duties  of  her 
position  as  a  burgled  householder  with  ela 
tion.  Tom's  main  point  was  to  assure  her 
that  her  bond  was  so  certain  to  be  recovered 
that  the  only  thing  she  had  to  do  was  to  take 
his  check  to  Mr.  Thumb  and  pay  for  the 
Lady  of  Shalott,  who,  Tom  admitted,  was  as 
good  a  horse  as  he  could  have  bought  him- 


TUK   STATE    WILL  PROTECT.          139 

self.  In  fact,  Tom  said  that  the  Lady  was 
worth  more  than  she  cost  ?  which  was  a  grat 
ification  that  nobody  but  an  unprotected 
woman  horse-hunter  could  feel  to  the  full. 
Tom  assured  Corona  that  her  registration 
would  bring  back  her  bond  if  her  robber 
didn't,  and  made  out  his  check  to  Mr. 
Thumb's  order  with  that  masculine  force  of 
will  which  makes  it  either  necessary  or  impos 
sible  for  a  woman  to  yield  a  point.  Corona's 
hesitation  was  put  by  in  a  burly  sort  of  way, 
as  if  it  were  a  thing  of  no  more  consequence 
than  a  crochet-needle  ;  and  before  she  knew 
exactly  what  had  happened,  or  why  it  hap 
pened  so,  the  Lady  of  Shalott  became  her 
own.  Tom  managed  so  well  in  this  matter 
that  it  was  months  after,  before  it  occurred 
to  Corona  to  wonder  whether  any  doubt  as  to 
the  ultimate  recovery  of  the  property  had 
ever  visited  his  mind. 

Tom  also  assured  her  that  she  ought  to 
print  some  circulars.  He  told  her  he  should 
print  a  thousand  if  he  were  she.  Everybody 
told  her  to  print  circulars;  and,  as  she  fol- 


140  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

lowed  all  the  advice  she  received  at  that  time, 
she  was  fast  flooding  the  land  with  circulars. 
But  Tom  said  they  did  n't  cost  much.  Co 
rona  pictured  the  peddler  as  hiding  behind 
hay-stacks  and  other  points  of  rural  scenery 
to  read  the  circulars. 

Tom  also  advised  her  immediately  to  put 
the  thing  in  the  hands  of  the  State's  District 
Police ;  he  observed  that  the  local  police 
might  do  very  well  by  local  affairs ;  an  d  gave 
vent  to  the  daring  inquiry :  How  did  we 
know  it  was  a  peddler  ?  Tom  added  that  if 
anything  more  occurred  to  him  he  would  tel 
egraph.  The  most  adorable  thing  about 
Tom  was  that  he  had  never  once  laughed  at 
her  for  not  locking  the  drawer  above  the 
drawer  that  held  the  bond.  Corona  could 
have  worshiped  him.  She  kissed  him  twice 
and  a  half,  when  she  drove  him  up  to  the 
moving  train,  on  the  last  platform  of  whose 
last  car  he  leaped  like  a  leopard  in  cheviot 
and  a  Derby,  to  return  to  Canada. 

When  Corona  and  the  Lady  of  Shalott 
came  back  from  the  station,  Corona  found 


THE   STATE    WILL   PROTECT.          141 

five  strange  men  sitting  in  the  Old  Maid's 
Paradise.  The  first  one  said  he  was  a  re 
porter  for  the  Boston  Sunday  "  Solar  Sys 
tem/'  and  would  be  obliged  to  her  for  some 
facts  about  the  burglary. 

Corona  excused  herself  from  the  other  four 
gentlemen,  and  took  the  Boston  Sunday 
"  Solar  System  "  into  the  dining-room,  and 
received  him  with  that  abject  helplessness 
characteristic  of  the  hitherto  uninterviewed 
American  citizen. 

The  next  gentleman  said  he  was  on  the 
staff  of  the  Tewksbury  "  Daily  Wild  Fire," 
and  he  had  called  for  a  few  details  of  what 
he  considered  the  most  blood-curdling  rob 
bery  of  the  day.  The  third  visitor  repre 
sented  the  New  York  "  Billy ;  "  and  the 
fourth  said  he  did  the  religious  column  in  a 
denominational  weekly  ;  the  fifth  hoped  she 
would  consider  him  unobtrusive,  but  he  had 
called  for  material  for  her  biography,  which 
would  appear  in  to-morrow  morning's  issue 
of  the  Texas  "  Trapper."  Corona's  natural 
and  acquired  civility  served  her  very  well 


142  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

through  the  struggle  with  the  Boston  "  Solar 
System ;  "  but  the  supply  sank  as  she  ran 
the  blockade  of  the  others  ;  and  by  the 
time  she  had  come  down  to  the  Texan,  she 
had  relapsed  into  a  condition  of  aboriginal 
combativeness.  The  results,  as  she  afterward 
learned,  were  closely  proportional. 

The  Boston  Sunday  "  Solar  System  "  told 
a  thrilling  tale  of  midnight  horror,  headed  : 
"  A  YOUNG  LADY  DISPERSES  A  GANG  OF 
BURGLARS,"  in  which  she  figured  as  beauti 
ful,  rich,  brave,  and  twenty.  The  Tewksbury 
"  Wild  Fire  "  said  she  was  tanned.  The  New 
York  "  Billy  "  said  the  lady's  courage  in  the 
affair  had  been  overrated.  The  denomina 
tional  weekly  said  she  was  heterodox.  But 
the  Texas  "  Trapper  "  reported  her  as  fifty- 
seven  years  of  age,  and  said  she  wore  no 
bangs. 

Corona's  next  step  led  her  to  the  Head 
quarters  of  the  State  Police  in  search  of  her 
property.  She  had  a  telegram  from  Tom  the 
morning  she  went,  dated  from  Toronto,  and 
running  :  — 


THE   STATE    WILL  PROTECT.          143 

"  DEAR  Sis,  —  Wish  I  could  do  the  whole 
job  for  you." 

Corona  telegraphed  back  :  — 

"  DEAR  BOY,  —  Have  my  hand  in,  and 
rather  like  it." 

The  Police  Inspectors  of  her  native  State 
received  the  lady  courteously.  She  had  never 
visited  such  a  place  before,  and  found  herself 
a  little  excited  by  the  abnormal  nature  of  her 
errand.  The  Inspectors  did  not  seem  excited 
at  all.  They  received  the  whole  affair  with  a 
calm  amounting  almost  to  what  she  felt  re 
sembled  a  lack  of  emotion  upon  the  subject 
of  her  loss. 

There  was  an  air  of  broad  unconcern  about 
the  State  Headquarters,  the  atmosphere  of 
people  so  blase  in  burglary  that  Corona  felt 
a  little  mortified  at  never  having  had  a  bur 
glary  before. 

"  I  have  come,"  she  said,  humbly,  "  to  put 
the  matter  in  your  hands." 

"  Oh,  certainly,"  replied  the  Inspector. 
"  We  will  take  charge  of  your  interests." 

"  It  is  a  small  sum,"  pleaded  Corona,  "  but 
large  to  me,  you  know." 


144  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

"  Oh,  certainly/'  observed  the  Inspector. 
"  Naturally.  Quite  so." 

The  Inspector  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and 
drummed  upon  the  table  with  his  finger  tips ; 
he  played  the  long  -  forgotten  national  air 
which  concerned  itself  with  the  proposal  to 
hang  a  very  gentlemanly  sub-patriot  to  a  sour 
apple-tree. 

"  Can't  you  send  a  man  down  there  to  in 
spect  the  premises  ? "  asked  Corona,  when 
she  had  told  the  story  in  detail.  "  I  under 
stand  the'  State  is  expected  to  look  after  these 
things." 

"  Of  course,"  replied  the  officer,  loftily. 
"  The  State  will  protect." 

He  gave  this  in  the  tone  of  a  devout  man 
who  says,  The  Lord  will  provide. 

"  The  local  police  is  energetic,"  faltered 
the  lady,  "  and  he  keeps  thinking  he  has  a 
clew."  " 

The  Inspector  allowed  himself  a  cosmo 
politan  smile  ;  his  rather  slender,  unused  fin 
gers  ceased  to  consign  the  sub-patriot  to  the 
sour  apple-tree. 


THE   STATE   WILL  PROTECT.          145 

"  But  I  don't  feel  satisfied,"  continued 
Corona,  "  to  rest  on  that.  I  must  depend 
upon  the  State  to  do  all  that  is  possible  for 
the  recovery  of  my  property." 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  the  Inspector,  dream 
ily.  "  I  see.  Of  course.  I  should  think 
the  State  would.  I  would  if  I  was  the  State. 
I  —  would  you  excuse  me,  Madam  —  I  'm 
worn  out  to-day.  We  had  a  murder  at  the 
South  End  last  night,  and  I  was  up  quite 
late.  We  did  n't  find  the  murderer  —  in  that 
case ;  but  we  found  a  clew.  But  it  kept  me 
pretty  busy  for  a  few  hours,  and  —  would 
you  excuse  me  if  I  took  a  nap  ?  " 

66  Oh,  certainly,"  said  Corona.  "  Pray  do. 
You  must  be  tired." 

So  the  Inspector  leaned  back  in  his  chair, 
and  took  a  little  nap  ;  and  Corona  sat  and 
watched  him. 

When  the  Inspector  woke  up  he  seemed 
quite  brisk.  He  began  :  — 

"  Now,  Madam,  I  will  take  the  points  in 
this  case.  Give  them  slowly,  so  I  can  get 

them  all  into  my  head." 

10 


146  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

So  Corona  gave  the  points,  as  well  as  she 
could,  and  as  slowly. 

"  Your  local  police  is  on  the  wrong  trail," 
said  the  Inspector,  frowning,  when  she  had 
finished.  "  The  peddler  had  nothing  to  do 
with  it." 

a  Is  it  possible  ? "  cried  Corona.  "  But 
the  dog  "  - 

"  The  dog  was  drunk,"  said  the  Inspector. 
"  The  clew  is  in  an  entirely  different  direc 
tion.  Give  me  the  full  address  of  the  deaf 
boy  who  is  in  your  employ." 

"  Zero?  Mr.  Inspector,  that  is  impossi 
ble  ! " 

"  All  things  are  possible  to  the  Power  of 
the  State,"  answered  the  Inspector,  with  maj 
esty.  "  I  refer  to  the  boy  who  asked  how 
much  money  you  kept  in  the  house." 

"  But  you  might  as  well  refer  to  my  guests 
or  my  cook,  in  such  a  connection,  as  to  that 
poor  little  deaf,  honest,  stupid  "  — 

"  It  is  not  impossible  that  I  might  have  to 
refer  to  your  guests  or  your  cook,"  returned 
the  Inspector.  "  Worse  things  have  been. 


THE   STATE    WILL  PROTECT.          147 

A  clew  must  be  followed  wherever  it  leads, 
Madam,  like  life  or  death.  I  am  satisfied  1 
have  a  clew.  I  will  arrest  the  boy  to-night." 

"  You  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind  !  "  cried 
Corona.  "  I  decline  to  prosecute.  I  decline 
to  have  anything  to  do  with  it.  I  prefer  to 
lose  my  money  to  outraging  my  neighbors 
by  a  course  so  devoid  of  the  first  principles 
of  common  intelligence." 

"  Oh !  if  you  take  it  in  that  way,"  pro 
tested  the  Inspector,  "  I  really  must  have  an 
other  nap.  This  is  quite  exhausting." 

So  the  Inspector  took  another  nap.  When 
he  awoke  he  said  he  felt  better.  Corona 
said  she  was  glad  to  hear  it. 

"I  have  it !  "  cried  the  Inspector  suddenly, 
with  an  expression  almost  amounting  to 
animation  upon  his  peaceful  countenance. 
"  You  should  print  some  circulars !  That 
will  certainly  recover  your  bond.  We  will 
try  to  assist  you,  of  course,  but  your  main 
dependence  is  on  your  circulars." 

Corona  urged  that  she  had  already  printed 
circulars ;  five  hundred  circulars  to  gratify 


148  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

Mr.  Pushett ;  one  thousand  circulars  at  the 
advice  of  her  brother. 

"  We  advise  you  to  print  fifteen  hundred 
circulars/'  said  the  Inspector.  "  They  will 
not  cost  you  anything  to  speak  of.  What  re 
ward  have  you  offered  ?  " 

Corona  hesitatingly  replied  that  she  had 
offered  two  hundred  dollars  reward. 

'"  Make  it  three,"  said  the  Inspector. 

"  The  loss  is  only  five/'  suggested  Corona. 
But  she  made  it  three. 

"  When  do  you  think  I  shall  hear  from 
my  bond  ?  "  asked  Corona,  after  a  pause,  in 
which  the  Inspector  gave  so  many  symptoms 
of  going  to  sleep  again  that  she  felt  obliged, 
however  reluctantly,  to  bring  her  personal  in 
terests  once  more  to  the  notice  of  the  State. 
The  Inspector  roused  himself  and  said  :  — 

66 1  beg  your  pardon  ?  " 

Corona  repeated  her  inquiry,  and  the  In 
spector  said  it  was  a  very  natural  inquiry  ; 
he  said  he  wished  it  were  in  his  power  to  an 
swer  it ;  he  said  they  would  certainly  remem 
ber  the  case  ;  he  said,  again,  that  the  State 


•    THE   STATE    WILL   PROTECT.          149 

would  protect.  He  went  so  far  as  to  inti 
mate  that  this  was  what  the  State  was  for. 
This  encouraged  Corona  so  much  that  she 
bade  him  good  afternoon ;  she  could  not 
think  of  anything  more  to  say,  unless  she 
asked  him  once  again  whether  he  did  n't 

o 

think  he  could  send  a  man  down  to  examine 
the  premises  and  the  region  where  the  rob 
bery  was  committed ;  but  he  said  No,  he 
did  n't  think  he  could  ;  and  then  she  wished 
the  Inspector  pleasant  dreams,  and  he  thanked 
her,  and  said  he  usually  had  'em  ;  and  then 
she  came  away. 

After  Corona  had  thus  thrown  herself 
upon  the  protection  of  the  State,  she  remem 
bered  that  Tom  had  advised  her  to  visit  the 
office  of  the  Fee-Fi-Fum  and  I.  0.  U.  Ac 
cordingly  she  did  so,  stating  her  errand  as 
inoffensively  as  possible.  The  Fee-Fi-Fum 
was  a  very  imposing  railroad.  There  was  a 
great  deal  of  marble  in  its  office.  There  was 
a  great  deal  more  of  majesty  in  its  clerks. 
Over  marble  and  majesty  Corona  pushed  her 
errand,  into  the  presence  of  the  Thirteenth 


150  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

Assistant  Vice-President,  a  gentlemanly  young 
man,  who  said  he  was  sorry  for  her.  Corona 
thanked  him,  but  said  that  she  had  come  to 
see  about  the  duplication  of  her  bond,  which, 
being  registered,  she  had  understood  was 
absolutely  protected  against  fire,  burglary, 
and  loss.  The  young  man  replied  that,  in 
a  sense,  this  was  true  ;  in  a  sense,  not.  Co 
rona  begged  to  inquire  in  which  sense  it  was 
not  true. 

"  We  do  not  duplicate,"  returned  the  gen 
tlemanly  young  man.  "  We  never  duplicate. 
Our  lawyer  objects." 

"  How,  then,  asked  the  bondholder,  am  I 
to  get  my  money  ?  " 

"  In  a  sense"  replied  the  young  man,  po 
litely,  "  you  don't  get  your  money.  Our  law 
yer  is  very  strict  about  it." 

"  Who  does  get  it,  if  I  don't  ?  "  asked  the 
lady,  patiently.  "  The  Railroad  ?  " 

"  Oh,  dear,  no ! "  cried  the  young  man. 
"  Of  course  not.  I  can't  tell  you  exactly 
who  gets  it.  Our  lawyer  has  never  explained 
to  us." 


THE  STATE  WILL  PROTECT.    151 

"  But  the  burglar  cannot  get  it,  can  he  ?  " 
asked  Corona. 

"  Certainly  not/'  returned  the  Thirteenth 
Assistant  Vice-President,  brightening.  "  The 
burglar  cannot  get  it.  It  will  never  be  of  any 
use  to  the  burglar.  That  is  the  advantage  of 
registration." 

66  But  I  was  told,  when  I  bought  my  bond," 
urged  Corona,  "  that  registration  would  pro 
tect." 

"  I  presume  you  were,"  said  the  young  man, 
courteously.  "  That  seems  to  be  the  prevail 
ing  impression." 

"  And,  of  course,  you  understand,"  he 
added,  "  that  we  will  pay  you  your  interest ; 
it  is  only  your  principal  which  you  do  not 


recover." 


"  That  is  something,  at  least."  The  bond 
holder  brightened. 

"But  you  must  first  sign  a  little  paper,  you 
know.  We  call  it  a  bond  of  indemnity  ;  just 
a  little  matter  of  form.  I  will  show  you  a 
copy.  Here  !  We  require  you  to  sign  this 
before  we  can  pay  you  anything.  Our  law 
yer  is  very  particular  about  it." 


152  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

Corona  read  the  bond  of  indemnity  over 
carefully,  once  —  twice.  She  laid  it  down 
and  rose  to  go.  All  the  marble  and  majesty 
had  passed  over  now  from  the  office  of  the 
Fee-Fi-Fum  and  I.  0.  U.  to  the  face  of  the 
bondholder. 

"  This  paper/'  said  the  bondholder,  "  re 
quires  me  to  expect  nothing  in  case  of  for 
gery  "  — 

"  Certainly  not.     Our  lawyer  "  — 

"  In  case  of  forgery  by  the  lifting  of  fig 
ures  ;  by  the  erasion  of  names  with  the  use 
of  chemicals  ;  in  case,  I  observe,  of  your  own 
inadvertence  in  paying  my  property  over  to 
the  wrong  party  "  — 

"  Of  course,  madam.  We  could  not  be 
expected  to  guard  you  against  our  own  in 
advertence.  That  would  be  asking  a  great 
deal." 

"  This  paper  also  requires,"  continued  Co 
rona,  "  that  I  shall  protect  you  in  a  law-suit, 
if  any  such  be  brought  against  you,  by  an 
innocent  and  victimized  purchaser  of  the 
bond.  It  requires  me  to  subject  myself,  for 


THE  STATE  WILL  PROTECT.     153 

the  value  of  a  $500  bond,  to  indefinite  pecu 
niary  risks  —  call  it  $5,000,  say  -  -  some 
pleasant  morning  ?  Do  I  understand  it  cor 
rectly  ?  " 

"  In  a  sense,"  said  the  officer  of  the  Fee- 
Fi-Fum,  "  you  may  be  said  to  understand  it. 
It  is  a  simple  matter,  you  see.  You  sign 
the  paper.  We  pay  you  your  $93  interest, 
and  "  - 

"  I  do  not  sign  the  paper,"  said  Corona, 
laying  it  down  quietly.  The  officer  of  the 
Fee-Fi-Fum  looked  surprised,  even  grieved. 

"  You  will  excuse  me,"  repeated  the  lady, 
"  from  signing  your  paper.  May  I  ask,  be 
fore  I  bid  you  good-morning,  in  what  you 
consider  that  the  value  of  registration  does 
consist  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  told  you,"  urged  the  Thirteenth 
Assistant  Vice-President.  "  It  renders  the 
property  useless  to  the  burglar." 

"  And  protects  the  Railroad  ?  "  asked  Co 
rona. 

"  Certainly,  madam.  And  protects  the  Rail 
road." 


154  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Corona.  "  I  under 
stand  now.  Those  are  the  main  points  in 
which  registration  is  of  interest  to  the  bond 
holder  ?  " 

"  I  believe/'  said  the  Thirteenth  Assistant 
Vice-President,  "  those  are  the  main  points." 

On  her  way  to  the  station,  Corona  dropped 
in  at  Messrs.  Jump  &  Jiggles',  and  mentioned 
the  substance  of  her  interview  in  the  office  of 
the  Fee-Fi-Fum  and  I.  0.  U.  The  brokers 
were  quite  interested  in  the  matter.  Mr. 
Jump  said  the  Fee-Fi-Fum  had  the  sharpest 
lawyer  in  New  England.  Both  Mr.  Jump 
and  Mr.  Jiggles  told  the  bondholder  that  she 
had  done  just  right.  Mr.  Jiggles  went  so  far 
as  to  say  that  he  would  .see  his  money  at  — 
Behring's  Strait  before  he  would  sign  that  sort 
of  a  bond  of  indemnity.  But  Mr.  Jiggles 
was  the  nervous  member  of  the  firm. 


IX. 

MESSRS.    HIDE    AND    SEEK. 

THE  summer  was  wearing  on.  But  that 
Registered  Bond  No.  30,075  had  not  been 
restored  to  Paradise.  Freshets  of  circulars 
poured  over  the  land.  The  reward  was  grad 
ually  increased  at  about  the  rate  of  a  dollar  a 
day.  Tom  telegraphed  exorbitantly  from  dif 
ferent  points  upon  the  map  of  North  America. 
Mr.  Pushett  called  at  the  cottage,  with  a  new 
clew,  from  twice  to  three  times  a  week. 
Messrs.  Jump  &  Jiggles  sent  a  copy  of  some 
advertisements  once  used  by  them  in  tracking 
down  a  heavy  theft  from  their  private  safe ; 
but  stated  that,  in  that  case,  the  money  was 
never  recovered.  The  Fee-Fi-Fum  wrote  to 
Corona  that  their  lawyer  would  be  happy  to 
explain  to  her  that  bond  of  indemnity.  From 
the  headquarters  of  the  State  Force  nothing 
was  received  but  a  bill  for  printing  circulars. 


156  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

It  was  in  August  that  Tom  telegraphed, 
one  pleasant  evening,  the  two  words,  "  Pri 
vate  Detective," 

While  Corona  sat  turning  this  message  over 
in  her  hand  and  in  her  mind,  another,  with 
winged  heels,  flew  fast  upon  it.  The  second 
said :  — 

"  But  be  careful  about  confounding  fel 
ony." 

"  I  don't  see  exactly  what  he  means,"  said 
Corona  to  Susy  ;  for  Susy  was  visiting  her 
just  then  with  the  baby." 

"  I  always  know  what  he  means,"  said 
Susy.  "  Let  me  see  the  telegram.  '  Con 
founding  felony.  Confounding  felony.'  What 
is  '  confounding  felony  '  ?  " 

"  It  must  be  a  mistake,"  said  Corona. 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Susy.  "  Tom  never  makes 
mistakes." 

"  It 's  that  telegram  company  made  the 
mistake,"  observed  Puelvir.  "  I  never  did 
think  much  of  a  concern  that  would  steal  the 
name  of  the  Woman's  Christian  Union  out' 
right  that  way." 


MESSRS.   HIDE  AND   SEEK.  157 

"  Whoever  made  the  mistake/'  said  Corona, 
"  I  think  Tom  must  have  meant  6  compound 
ing.'  I  think  I  Ve  heard  the  expression.  I  'in 
not  clear  what  it  means.  I  must  ask  Mr. 
Pushett." 

But  Susy  shook  her  head.  She  persisted 
that  confound  was  the  natural  and  proper  word 
in  that  connection.  She  thought  it  might 
have  been  confounded  —  '  confounded  fel 
ony  '  ;  from  what  she  knew  of  Tom's  habits 
of  speech,  she  thought  this  quite  possible. 
Susy  was  very  positive.  She  usually  was. 
And  then  the  baby  cried,  —  the  baby  gen 
erally  did  cry,  —  and  Susy  said  she  wanted 
Corona  to  take  her  to  ride.  Susy  did  not  say, 
but  thought,  that  it  was  very  inhospitable  in 
Corona  that  the  Lady  of  Shalott  had  broken 
her  saddle-girth  and  that  Zero  had  gone  over 
to  the  city  to  get  it  mended.  Susy  did  say 
that  horse  was  always  breaking  something  and 
being  mended  ;  and  Corona  replied  that  this 
was  quite  true.  Susy  was  having  a  delight 
ful  visit  at  the  Old  Maid's  Paradise  ;  but  you 
never  would  have  thought  it. 


158  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

The  next  morning  Corona  took  her  sister- 
in-law  and  her  niece  upon  a  drive ;  and  as 
nothing  broke  but  a  buckle  in  the  bridle,  and 
as  the  Lady  did  not  cast  a  shoe,  and  did 
not  happen  to  get  a  great  many  stones  into 
her  feet,  and  was  not  too  warm,  so  that  Co' 
rona  felt  at  liberty  to  let  her  go,  and  was  not 
too  cold,  so  it  was  not  necessary  to  blanket 
her,  they  had  a  charming  drive,  and  returned 
in  excellent  spirits.  Corona  was  just  waiting 
to  give  the  Lady  of  Shalott  her  piece  of  maple 
sugar,  and  to  remind  Zero  to  look  for  rocks 
in  her  feet,  and  be  sure  and  wash  her  ankles, 
and  put  on  her  duster,  and  hang  up  the  har 
ness,  and  not  give  her  anything  for  half  an 
hour,  and  not  to  forget  to  wret  the  oats,  and 
to  remember  the  hay,  and  not  to  take  any 
body  else's  pail,  and  to  look  after  the  bed 
ding,  and  to  give  her  all  the  water  she  want 
ed,  and  to  shut  the  barn  window  where  the 
draught  was,  and  dust  the  cushions,  and  wash 
the  wheels,  and  shake  the  mat,  and  dry  the 
sponges,  and  put  the  chamois  in  the  sun,  raid 
pull  the  buggy  in  out  of  it,  and  shut  the  barn 


MESSRS.   HIDE   AND  SEEK.  159 

door,  and  come  again  at  four  o'clock  —  as 
Corona  was  thus  struggling  with  her  daily  du 
ties  as  a  lone  woman  who  boarded  a  horse  in 
Fairharbor,  Puelvir  came  out  to  tell  her  that 
there  was  another  man  in  the  parlor,  and  sho 
thought  he  was  a  widower  or  a  book-agent ; 
she  could  n't  tell  which. 

But  when  Corona  went  into  the  house,  she 
found  that  he  was  a  New  York  detective.  He 
introduced  himself  as  representing  the  famous 
firm  of  Hide  &  Seek,  private  detectives.  He 
admitted  that  he  was  Mr.  Seek.  He  usually 
sent  a  man ;  but  this  case  he  considered  a  lit 
tle  out  of  the  ordinary  run.  Her  brother,  he 
said,  had  sent  him  ;  he  had  requested  them  to 
lose  no  time  in  giving  her  at  least  the  oppor 
tunity  to  put  her  affairs  into  their  hands. 
Mr.  Seek  had  seen  her  brother  for  ten  min 
utes  as  he  was  passing  through  on  his  way  to 
somewhere.  He  produced  a  line  of  introduc 
tion  from  Tom  in  proof  of  these  assertions,  and 
Corona  begged  him  to  be  seated.  Mr.  Seek 
added  that  they  had  ten  dollars  a  day  and  ex 
penses.  As  nearly  as  he  could  make  out,  he 


160  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

should  expect  to  recover  her  bond  in  about 
five  days  after  he  once  got  at  it.  After  a 
little  preliminary  firing,  Corona  confided  to 
Mr.  Seek  that  the  State  did  not  protect  her, 
that  the  Fee-Fi-Fum  charged  their  law-suits 
and  their  inadvertence  to  her,  and  that  Mr. 
Pushett  woke  her  up  nights.  In  short,  she 
said,  she  was  now  ready  to  do  what  she  should 
have  done  the  day  the  robbery  was  committed, 
—  to  put  herself  unreservedly  in  the  hands 
of  honorable  private  detectives,  who  could  in 
sure  the  return  of  her  property  for  any  pecu 
niary  consideration  which  the  interest  at  stake 
might  justify  her  in  paying. 

So  Mr.  Seek  took  out  his  note-book  and 
pencil,  as  Mr.  Pushett  had  done  ;  and  he,  in 
his  turn,  called  for  the  points  of  the  case. 
Corona  was  delighted  with  the  exquisite  agil 
ity  which  marked  the  detective's  movements. 
They  were  in  highly-organized  contrast  to  the 
crude  energy  of  the  local  force  or  the  sedative 
benediction  of  State  protection.  The  profes 
sional  detective  had  the  "  go  "  of  a  man  who 
charged  by  the  comma,  and  to  whom  every 


MESSRS.   HIDE  AND   SEEK.  161 

interrogation  point  meant  money.  He  said 
it  would  be  necessary  to  ask  a  few  questions, 
and  he  proceeded  something  in  the  following 
manner,  after  begging  the  lady's  pardon  for 
his  precision  of  detail :  — 

"  Your  name,  if  you  please  ?  Maiden 
name  ?  Where  do  you  reside  in  the  winter  ? 
Parents  living  ?  Their  name  ?  Name  of  Pa 
ternal  Grandfather  ?  Maternal  Grandmoth 
er  ?  Her  maiden  name  ?  Any  consump 
tion  in  your  family?  Insanity?  Epilepsy? 
Are  you  a  Homoeopathist  ?  As  a  family,  do 
you  have  severe  colds?  Any  of  your  folks 
ever  in  prison  ?  Ever  hung  for  anything  ? 
Are  you  quick-tempered  ?  How  old  are  you  ? 
Where  were  you  born  ?  Did  you  ever  have 
red  hair  ?  False  teeth  ?  What  is  your 
height,  if  you  please  ?  Blue  eyes  ?  Have 
you  any  occupation  ?  Do  you  drink  coffee  ? 
Is  it  your  intention  to  marry?  How  much 
are  you  worth  ?  " 

When  the  detective  had  put  these  questions, 
with  others  of  an  equally  comprehensive  na 
ture,  he  requested  to  see  the  servants  of  the 
11 


162  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

family.  Zero  was  first  brought  upon  the  scene. 
The  detective  took  the  boy  in  with  one  pier 
cing  professional  glance,  then  made  a  per 
fectly  unconscious  and  rather  interesting  ges 
ture  with  the  lead  pencil,  as  if  he  canceled 
that  entry  in  the  topic.  He  gave,  however, 
a  few  passing  inquiries :  — 

"  Well,  Zero,  how  long  have  you  been  in 
the  service  of  this  lady  ?" 

"  Hey  ?  " 

"  How  long  have  you  worked  for  this 
lady  f  " 

"  Lady  ?  The  horse's  name  's  the  Lady. 
She  calls  her  the  Lady  that  Sold  Out.  I  take 
care  of  her.  She  's  a  good  horse." 

"Are  you  deaf?" 

"Eh?" 

"  Deaf.    Are  you  DEAF  ?  " 

"  No,  I  ain't  deef .  I  'm  a  little  hard  o' 
hearin'." 

"  Who  was  the  person  who  asked  you  how 
much  money  your  employer  kept  "  — 

"Hi?" 

"  Who  was  the  person  ?  "  etc.,  etc. 


MESSRS.   HIDE  AND  SEEK.  163 

"  He  warn't  a  person.     He  was  a  boy." 

"  What  was  his  name  ?  " 

"  Hey  ?  Dunno.  Never  see  him  afore. 
Never  see  him  sence.  He  was  a  kind  of  long 
boy.  He  don't  belong  in  these  parts.  What  ? 
I  did  n't  sense  what  you  said.  Hey  ?  " 

"  Where  were  you  on  the  night  of  the  rob 
bery  ?  " 

"  Me  ?  I  was  to  home,  sleepin'  along  of 
my  little  brother." 

"How    did  you  spend  the  previous  even- 

•         o " 

ing? 

"  Marm  give  me  a  Sunday-school  lesson  to 
learn  to  my  sister.  I  helped  along  of  the 
dishes  first,  and  chopped  the  kindlinV 

"  Are  you  aware  that  you  might  have  been 
the  subject  of  suspicion  in  this  business  ?  " 

"Hey?" 

"  Suspicion.    Do  you  know  you  might "  — 

"  Fishin  ?  No,  I  ain't  fishin  these  days.  I 
take  care  of  her  and  her  horse." 

At  this  point  the  detective  said  that  would 
do,  and  requested  to  see  the  female  domestic. 
Puelvir  came.  She  had  her  crimps  on,  and  a 


164  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

fresh  dress.  She  stood  with  her  hands  upon 
her  hips.  She  and  the  detective  eyed  each 
other.  The  detective  smiled  slightly.  But 
Puelvir  did  not  smile. 

"  Here  I  be  !  "  she  began.  "  What  do  you 
want  of  me  ?  " 

"  Your  name,  if  agreeable  to  you." 

"  It 's  a  very  agreeable  name  to  me.  I  was 
christened  Puella  Virginia  of  a  Christmas 
Sunday  in  the  Baptist  meetin-house.  Nor 
I  've  never  seen  any  reason  to  change  it, 
nuther." 

"Your  age?" 

"  Be  you  the  census-taker  ?  " 

"  I  am  anything  that  serves  my  purposes  in 
this  business." 

"  The  last  one  asked  me  how  many  children 
there  was  in  this  house.  I  shut  the  door  in 
his  face,  and  sent  him  about  his  business. 
That  one  you  hear  cryin'  upstairs  belongs 
to  her  sister-in-law.  It  don't  reside  here, 
thanks  to  mercy." 

"  You  have  forgotten  to  tell  ine  how  old 
you  are." 


MESSRS.   HIDE  AND  SEEK.  165 

"  Just  fifteen  come  Janooary,"  said  Puelvir, 
grimly. 

"  How  long  do  you  purpose  to  remain  in 
the  service  of  this  lady  ?  " 

"  Long  as  she  '11  have  me." 

"  Are  you  attached  to  her  service  ?  " 

"  I  refused  two  for  her  in  a  year  and  six 
months." 

"  Two  what  ?  " 

"  Two  widderers.  (Never  you  mind,  Miss 
Corona  ;  I  don't  count  the  raspberry  man 
neither.") 

"  That  peddler  —  he  was  an  old  acquaint 
ance  of  yours,  I  helieve  ;  was  n't  he  ?  Was 
he  an  agreeable  gentleman  ?  " 

"  What  are  you  up  to  ? "  said  Puelvir, 
sharply. 

66  He  said  some  polite  things,  perhaps,  to 
you.  I  should  think  he  might.  I  was  merely 
inquiring  "  — 

"  Men  folks  are  most  generally  polite  to  me. 
They  hev  to  be." 

"  Especially  in  this  case,  when  it  was  an  old 
friend,  I  think  you  said.  Somebody  whose 


166  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

acquaintance  you  formed  last  winter  ?  Wanted 
to  marry  you,  I  dare  say,  if  you  had  returned 
his  sentiments  ?  " 

"  Look  a  here  !  "  said  Puelvir,  slowly,  in  a 
voice  of  concentrated  passion ;  all  her  gaunt, 
faithful  face  seemed  to  draw  back  and  square 
off  at  the  detective :  "  Do  you  mean  —  do 
you  darst  to  mean  to  —  to  come  here  with 
the  drippin's  of  a  notion  in  the  bottom  of 
your  miser'ble  sneakin'  Noo  York  City  soul, 
that  me  and  her  burglars  was  on  terms  ?  Do 
you  darst  to  figger  it  as  I  move  in  any  sech 
circle  of  society  ?  Do  you  darst  to  suppose 
—  Lord  have  mercy  on  his  soul !  "  cried  Puel- 
vir,  turning  to  her  mistress  with  a  motion 
and  expression  which  were  so  noble  that  they 
could  not  fail  of  being  beautiful.  "  What 
do  you  suppose  the  poor  critter  does  darst  to 
suppose  ?  Me  —  me,  Miss  Corona,  —  and 
I  've  been  that  fond  of  you.  Well,  there  ! 
Let  the  creetur  go.  He  ain't  wuth  a  tear, 
not  even  where  salt 's  so  plenty  as  it  is  along 
shore.  I  won't  cry  for  him ;  you  don't  catch 
me.  You  —  poor  —  creetur,"  added  Puelvir, 


MESSRS.    HIDE  AND   SEEK.  167 

gently :  "  You  're  wuss  than  a  census-taker. 
You  may  go.  I  have  n't  nothin'  more  to  say 
to  you.  You  may  go.  I  've  got  some  sass 
to  season.  You  '11  have  to  excuse  me,  sir. 
Good-mornin'." 

When  the  detective  had  finished  his  con 
versations  with  Corona  and  Zero  and  Puelvir, 
and  had  examined  the  premises  carefully,  and 
had  interviewed  the  expressman  and  Mr.  Push- 
ett,  he  expressed  himself  as  perfectly  satis 
fied  with  his  morning's  work.  He  said  it  was 

o 

as  clear  a  case  as  he  ever  had  in  his  life.  He 
said  all  he  wanted  now  was  four  days.  He 
expected  to  be  able  to  put  his  finger  on  the 
bond  in  four  days.  It  was  a  beautiful  case, 
he  said.  The  servants  were  not  implicated ; 
he  had  never  thought  the  servants  were  impli 
cated.  This  was  the  work  of  a  professional 
cracksman.  What  was  more,  Mr.  Seek  added, 
with  a  certain  pride  in  his  tone,  it  was  the 
work  of  New  York  cracksmen.  It  was  too 
neat  to  be  done  anywhere  else.  They  talk 
about  the  culture  of  Boston  !  It  was  all  very 
well ;  but  when  you  came  to  a  thing  of  this 


168  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

kind,  it  could  n't  be  compassed  outside  of 
New  York.  It  was  the  most  beautiful  piece 
of  work  he  had  seen  for  some  time.  There 
was  a  dexterity,  a  dare,  a  reticence  about  the 
job,  which,  professionally  speaking,  excited 
Mr.  Seek's  admiration.  He  worked  himself 
into  such  a  glow  upon  the  subject  that  Co 
rona  quite  shared  his  enthusiasm.  She  be 
gan  to  feel  it  something  of  an  honor  to  have 
been  burgled  by  such  highly-developed  cracks 
men  ;  and  when  Mr.  Seek  assured  her  that  he 
knew  the  fellow  past  all  question,  her  excite 
ment  waxed  rapidly. 

"  Beyond  all  doubt,"  said  Mr.  Seek,  as  he 
rose  to  take  his  adieus,  "  the  man  who  robbed 
your  house  is  Marcus  Aurelius  Bobbin  —  a 
notorious  cracksman  ;  belongs  to  the  second 
story  gang  ;  he  's  an  expert ;  I  know  him 
well.  Been  in  Sing-Sing  three  times,  for 
forgery,  and  other  little  matters.  There  is  n't 
a  deeper  fellow  in  the  country  ;  his  skill  is 
really  something  uncommon.  If  he  is  n't 
drunk,  I  can  put  my  finger  on  him  to-mor- 
vow  evening.  If  he  is  n't  here,  he  will  be 


MESSRS.   HIDE  AND   SEEK.  169 

there  or  there,  I  know  every  saloon  he  vis 
its  ;  every  pal  in  his  gang  ;  every  indictment 
that  is  hanging  over  his  head.  There  are 
four  against  him  already.  Your  bond  is  in 
the  hands  of  his  fence.  I  know  his  fence. 
Or  it  is  at  his  pawnbroker's.  I  know  his 
pawnbroker  very  well.  I  'd  raise  the  reward 
a  few  dollars,  if  I  was  you.  Perhaps  I  'd 
print  a  few  more  circulars.  I  'd  make  it  up 
to  two  thousand.  Give  me  a  few  hundred  to 
scatter  as  I  go  along.  In  case  of  any  hitch 
it  would  be  a  good  thing.  But  I  am  certain 
of  my  clew.  I  am  confident  Marcus  Aure- 
lius  will  come  to  terms.  In  point  of  fact,  I 
presume  he  is  only  waiting  to  hear  from  me. 
He  counts  upon  your  taking  —  any  honor 
able  steps.  You  may  expect  to  see  your  bond 
within  six  days.  I  shall  telegraph  you  as 
soon  as  I  see  my  man.  It  is  a  remarkably 
neat  case.  I  will  keep  you  informed.  You 
will  probably  hear  from  me  to-morrow  night." 
But  Corona  did  not  hear  from  the  New 
York  detective  to-morrow  night,  nor  the  next 

O         ' 

night,  nor  the  next.     It  lacked  a  little  of  a 


170  BURGLARS   IN  PARADISE. 

week  from  the  day  of  his  visit  at  Paradise, 
when  a  letter  was  received  from  Mr.  Seek, 
which  ran  :  — 

"  OFFICE  OF  HIDE,  SEEK  &  Co., 
NEW  YORK  CITY. 

"  DEAR  MADAM,  —  Marcus  Aurelius  Bob 
bin  is  committed  for  murder  in  the  second 
degree.  As  it  seems  he  was  in  prison  at  the 
date  of  the  robbery,  we  find  him  able  to 
prove  an  alibi.  We  have  now  a  better  clew 
than  that.  Have  no  doubt  whatever  that  we 
are  on  the  right  scent  this  time.  Please  send 
by  check,  to  order,  forty  dollars  more  by  re 
turn  mail.  It  will  be  needed  immediately. 
Yours,  etc.,  HIDE,  SEEK  &  Co." 

Days  passed.  Nights  fled.  The  moon 
waned.  At  intervals  Corona  heard  from 
Messrs.  Hide  &  Seek.  Usually  it  was  by 
telegraph  ;  collect  dispatches.  They  were 
always  cheerful  dispatches.  Sometimes  they 
said :  — 

"  Must  have  fifty  dollars  to  -  morrow. 
New  dew." 

Maddening    messages    like    these    dashed 


MESSRS.   HIDE  AND  SEEK.  171 

upon  her,  inevitably  in  the  evening  after  the 
last  train  had  gone  :  — 

"  Come  to  New  York,  or  send  agent. 
Must  consult  with  you" 

Or,  without  a  moment's  warning,  she  found 
herself  plunged  into  an  abyss  like  this  :  — 

"  Send  seventy-five  dollars  by  telegraph. 
Pawnbroker  hedges.  All  goes  well." 

Ou  vont  les  vieilles  tunes  ?  Where  go  the 
old  clews  ?  Corona  went  so  far  as  to  wonder 
sometimes  ;  but  she  never  went  any  further. 
Nothing  went  any  further,  except  her  check 
book.  She  used  up  one  and  began  another 
in  the  ardent  service  of  Messrs.  Hide  &  Seek. 
But  neither  Messrs.  Hide  &  Seek,  nor  the 
Protecting  State,  nor  Mr.  Pushett,  nor  time, 
nor  the  burglars,  nor  the  check-book,  restored 
to  Paradise  that  Kegistered  Bond  of  the  Fee- 
Fi-Fum  and  I.  0.  U. 


JUDAS   JOHNS. 

AND  still  the  summer  fled.  The  nastur 
tiums  in  the  dory  burst  into  a  blaze  outside 
the  cottage  windows ;  the  ardent  flowers 
leaped  up  the  little  masts  and  caught  each 
other  across  the  ropes  of  twine,  and  flung  to 
the  light  winds  a  sheet  of  gold.  Where 
once  the  old  gray  sail  had  perilously  tossed 
the  weather-daring  boat  across  the  bar  (for, 
to  put  a  sail  on  a  dory,  it  is  well  known,  is 
to  take  one's  life  in  one's  hands)  the  yellow 
flowers  turned  their  burning  faces  to  look 
into  sheltered  windows,  or  leaned  to  neigh 
bors'  children  lifting  up,  or  played  tricks 
with  the  restless  horse,  when  she  stood  wait 
ing  too  long  for  her  driver,  on  the  white-hot 
mornings.  The  helpless  boat  had  lost  her 
air  of  tugging  at  her  anchor  to  get  away  ; 


JUDAS  JOHNS.  173 

she  had  settled  to  her  lot,  like  gentle  old  age 
to  its  fireside  corner ;  the  storms  had  broken 
and  were  past;  the  tide  was  stemmed,  and 
had  set  in.  Here  was  the  last  haven  —  for 
the  wave  and  the  wind,  the  grass-blade  and 
the  seed ;  for  the  surf  and  the  thunder,  the 
flowering  of  little  thoughts  and  cares ;  for 
action  and  passion  and  courage,  patience  and 
waiting  and  peace.  The  dory  accepted  its 
fate  like  a  lovable  old  man. 

The  summer  fled ;  too  fast  for  the  busy 
feet  that  now  would  never  overtake  her ;  too 
fast  for  the  heart  distraught  with  cares  she 

O 

would  have  none  of.  If  Marcus  Aurelius 
Bobbin  pined  in  prison,  if  Messrs.  Hide  & 
Seek  pranced  after  all  the  clews  in  New  York 
society,  what  is  that  (said  summer  in  Fair- 
harbor),  what  is  that  to  me  or  thee  ? 

But  never  to  the  threshold  of  Paradise  re 
turned  —  nay,  not  by  so  much  as  a  registered 
coupon  —  that  registered  bond  No.  30,075, 
Fe-Fi-Fum  and  I.  0.  U. 

It  was  a  warm  afternoon  in  late  August 
when  the  event  which  it  is  the  duty  of  this 


174  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

chapter  to  record  took  place.  It  took  place, 
like  most  of  the  others,  in  the  gray  parlor, 
which  was  fast  assuming  to  Corona's  wearied 
imagination  the  character  of  a  penitentiary 
or  police-station ;  she  felt  as  if  it  would  need 
some  immense  moral  or  mental  cologne- 
sprinkler  to  deodorize  from  her  gentle  home 
the  odic  forces  which  had  invisibly  wandered 
thither  with  the  magnetism  of  the  strange 

O  O 

visitants  whom  misfortune  had  imposed  upon 
her.  She  continued,  at  stray  moments,  to 
think  of  what  Mary  said  about  her  lonely 
situation . 

It  was  more  lonely  than  usual  just  now. 
Mary  was  traveling  with  her  husband.  Tom 
had  taken  Susy  and  the  baby  to  the  Yellow 
stone  on  what  he  called  a  little  trip.  Elf 
was  at  Bar  Harbor.  All  of  the  girls  were 
going  somewhere,  or  busy  somehow  ;  it  was 
one  of  the  interludes  when  there  was  nobody 
in  particular  to  visit  Paradise.  Puelvir  alone 
stayed  by  her ;  Puelvir  and  the  summer 
boarders,  Matthew  Launcelot  and  the  Lady 
of  Shalott  and  Zero  —  and  the  ocean.  After 


JUDAS  JOHNS.  175 

all,  how  many  !  Corona  counted  them  on 
her  fingers,  and  took  heart  easily  ;  she  al 
ways  did. 

On  this  hot  afternoon  of  which  I  speak, 
she  was  sitting  quite  by  herself  in  a  cool 
Wakefield  chair,  in  the  draught  between  the 
open  door  and  windows.  The  blinds  were 
closed,  and  the  light  in  Jie  room  was  dim. 
It  was  so  dim  that,  when  a  shadow  fell  across 
it,  she  did  not  at  first  observe  that  some  one 
had  entered  the  room,  and  was  standing, 
staring  about.  Immediately,  however,  she 
saw,  started,  and  sprang  to  her  feet.  This 
was  like  no  guest  who  had  ever  been  seen  in 
Paradise  ;  thi^  was  quite  another  thing. 

When  she  sprang,  the  man  sprang  too  ; 
instinctively  put  his  hand  upon  what  may 
have  been  his  pistol-belt  —  dropped  it,  and 
recovered  himself. 

"I'll —  I'll  not  harm  you,"  he  said. 
66 1  've  come  on  business." 

"I  will  listen  to  your  business,"  said  Co 
rona,  quietly. 

He  was  a  pitiable  looking  man  ;  not  very 


176  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

large,  nor  very  strong-looking,  nor  very 
young.  Hidden  deeds  had  carved  ugly  lines 
in  his  weak  face  ;  evil  years  had  lighted  fires 
in  his  narrow  eyes  that  smouldered  with  the 
unconscious  self-betrayal  of  vice  ;  he  stooped, 
and  he  had  a  cough,  and  his  hands  shook 
like  those  of  a  person  who  had  palsy  hang 
ing  about  him.  He  was  not  very  .well  clad, 
and  looked  as  if  he  might  have  been  a  drink 
ing  man.  Take  him  all  in  all,  he  was  not  a 
pleasant  looking  person. 

After  that  first  throb,  Corona's  heart  beat 
evenly ;  she  did  not  feel  afraid  of  him  some 
how  ;  fear  was  not  the  word.  Her  emotions 
pulsated  from  indignation  to  pity  like  the 
pendulum  of  a  delicate  clock. 

"  Sit  down,"  she  said,  "  and  explain  your 
errand.  (Come  here,  Matthew  Launcelot !) 
I  will  hold  the  dog.  (Be  still,  Matthew  ! 
Do  not  touch  this  person.  I  will  take  care 
of  myself.  When  I  want  you,  I  will  tell 
you.  Sit  still,  sir.") 

"  He  seems  to  be  a  spirited  dog,"  objected 
the  stranger,  discontentedly.  "  Those  tan 


JUDAS  JOHNS.  177 

terriers  are  considered  the  best  watch-dogs  in 
the  world  by  —  those  that  have  reason  to 
know,  I  believe.  You  '11  explain  to  him, 
may  be,  that  I  don't  mean  any  harm  to  any 
body." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  lady.    "  I  will  explain  it." 

"  I  did  n't  know  I  'd  got  a  woman  to  deal 
with,"  began  the  stranger,  with  embarrass 
ment.  "  There  was  nothing  but  .  initials 
to  the  advertisement.  Where  's  your  hus 
band  ?  " 

"  He  is  not  here  just  now,"  replied  Co 
rona. 

"  Father  ?  " 

«  No." 

"  Brother  ?  No  man  you  could  put  hands 
on  ?  I  'd  rather  deal  with  a  man." 

"  Whoever  has  errands  at  this  house  must 
deal  with  me." 

"  I  suppose  "  —  the  visitor  hesitated  —  "I 
suppose  you  know  what  I  've  come  for  ?  " 

"  What  have  you  come  for  ?  " 

"  It 's  about  —  I  come  on  business  about 
your  bond.  I  saw  your  advertisement  and 

12 


178  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

two  of  your  circulars.  You  offered  a  reward 
for  the  recovery  of 'the  bond." 

"  I  did." 

"  Mean  to  pay  it  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  When  the  bond  is  restored 
to  me  I  shall  pay  whatever  I  have  offered  to 
the  restorer." 

"  Take  your  Bible  oath  to  it  ?  " 

"  A  lady's  word  is  as  good  as  her  oath." 

"Is  it?"  asked  the  fellow,  with  what 
seemed  like  a  touch  of  reality  in  his  tone. 
u  I  don't  know  much  about  ladies." 

"  I  know  where  your  property  is/'  ven 
tured  the  guest,  after  an  awkward  silence. 
"  I  could  get  it  returned  to  you." 

"  Did  you  steal  it  ?  "  asked  Corona,  quietly. 
"  Are  you  the  thief  ?  " 

"  So  help  me  God  !     No  !  " 

"  I  wonder  if  you  do  expect  God  to  help 
you  ?  "  she  asked,  with  a  kind  of  distant  in 
tellectual  curiosity. 

«  Ma'am?" 

"  Never  mind.  It  seems  to  me  that  I 
should  need  some  other  proof  that  you  are 


JUDAS  JOHNS.  170 

not  the  thief,  besides  the  very  natural  relig 
ious  feeling  of  dependence  upon  the  Al 
mighty  which  you  express." 

"  Do  you  think  I  'd  be  such  a  dummed 
fool  as  to  come  here  if  I  was  ?  " 

This  was  the  outcry  of  Nature,  and  Co 
rona  bowed  to  the  argument. 

"  I  suppose,"  she  said,  "  you  are  what  is 
called  a  '  fence  ?'  Is  that  it?'9 

"  Never  you  mind,"  said  her  visitor,  sur 
lily,  "  what  I  am.  You  advertise  for  your 
lost  property.  You  offer  a  reward.  I  see 
your  advertisement.  I  offer  to  return  your 
property.  That  is  all  that  concerns  you  in 
the  business,  anyhow." 

"  It  might  be,  and  might  not  be,"  returned 
Corona.  "  I  am  not  used  to  such  business. 
If  I  can  recover  my  property  honorably,  I 
shall  be  glad  to  do  it.  If  I  can't,  I  shall  let 
it  go.  Money  is  not  the  only  thing  to  be 
considered  in  such  a  question." 

"  Ma'am  ?  "  said  the  stranger  again. 

"  You  ain't  rich,  are  you  ?  "  he  observed, 
after  looking  about  the  little  room.  His  eyes 


180  BURGLARS  IN  PARAD7SE. 

wandered  over  the  books  and  pictures  with 
dull  interest,  fell  on  the  cotton-flannel  up 
holstery,  and  returned  to  the  floor;  where 
they  sank,  it  seemed  from  force  of  habit,  like 
something  weighted,  to  drown  in  deep  water. 

"  No,  I  am  not  rich.  I  sometimes  wonder 
how  a  man  must  feel  —  to  rob  a  woman." 

"  A  cracksman  is  a  busy  man,"  observed 
the  caller.  "  People  of  their  profession 
have  so  many  different  interests,  you  know. 
They  're  polite  men,  too.  It 's  seldom  they 
hurt  a  lady  if  it  comes  to  the  worst ;  they  '11 
go  out  of  their  way  rather  than  to  shoot  a 
lady.  But  about  this  bond.  If  you  will  let 
me  go  home  and  consult  with  a  friend  of 
mine  —  I  'm  out  of  money ;  I  wonder  if  you 
could  lend  me  enough  to  get  to  New  York  ? 
No  ?  Oh  !  well,  it 's  of  no  consequence,  and 
then,  if  you  will  advertise  in  the  New  York 
6  Corkscrew,'  and  name  the  day  and  place, 
and  come  on  yourself,  and  say,  '  So  help  you 
God,  you  '11  act  in  good  faith,'  and  not  men 
tion  the  matter  to  anybody,  and  bring  the 
cash  with  you  for  the  sum  you  offer,  I  — - 


JUDAS  JOHNS.  181 

think  —  I  know  a  man  who  is  acquainted 
with  a  fellow  —  who  will  on  that  occasion  re 
store  your  bond." 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  "  asked  this  unpro 
tected  woman  at  this  juncture. 

"  You  may  call  me  what  you  please/'  said 
the  "  fence,"  looking  heavily  into  his  hat. 

"  Suppose  I  call  you  —  Judas  Johns  ? J5 

"  That  will  do  as  well  as  any  name  for 
me,"  returned  the  man.  "  I  don't  know  as 
I  —  have  you  a  strong  preference  for  the  first 
name  you  mention  ?  " 

"  It  occurred  to  me  at  the  moment ;  that 
is  all,"  said  the  lady. 

"  My  conditions  are  very  simple,"  pleaded 
the  "  fence,"  lifting  his  narrow  eyes  to  her 
serious,  pale  face.  "  It 's  a  registered  bond 
and  no  mortal  use  to  'em  except  they  get  the 
reward.  I  don't  think  you  '11  have  any  trou 
ble.  You  just  do  as  I  tell  you,  and  adver 
tise,  and  come  on.  You  'd  be  met  at  any 
safe  and  respectable  place  you  name,  and  no 
harm  could  come  to  you." 

"  Why  don't  you  come  to  me  with  my 
property  ?  "  asked  the  bondholder,, 


182  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

"  Lord  !  "  cried  the  man,  looking  up.  "I 
would  n't  put  myself  in  this  position  again 
for  the  worth  of  the  whole  bond.  Folkc 
stared  at  me  at  your  depot  here.  Your  po 
lice  follered  me.  You  'd  have  thought  some 
thing  ailed  me." 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  wonder/'  remarked 
Corona,  looking  the  poor  wretch  over0 

"  I  don't  know  how  I  'm  going  to  get  out 
of  it,  either,"  querulously.  "  You  're  on  a 
branch,  and  I  've  got  to  get  back  the  way  I 
come.  You  don't  catch  me  in  this  blarsted 
town  again,  if  I  can  see  my  way  out  of  it. 
Say.  You  won't  make  trouble  for  me,  will 
you  ?  I  come  in  good  faith.  You  '11  treat 
me  in  good  faith,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Judas  Johns,"  said  Corona,  in  a  low 
voice,  "  you  had  better  take  the  next  train, 
and  go.  I  have  nothing  more  to  say  to 
you." 

"  You  don't  mean  it  ?  "  cried  Judas  Johns. 
"  Why,  I  could  restore  your  property  in  a 
week  !  " 

"  When  my  property  is  restored  to  me,  I 


JUDAS  JOHNS.  183 

shall  receive  it,"  said  Corona,  who  had,  be  it 
confessed,  the  vaguest  idea  whether  she  were 
behaving  like  a  heroine  or  a  fool ;  she  had 
nothing  but  blind  instinct  to  guide  her  ;  and 
instinct  said  :  "  Stop  here." 

"  I  don't  know  what  compounding  felony 
is,"  she  added,  "  and  very  likely  I  should  n't 
know  a  felon  if  I  saw  him.  But  I  prefer  not 
to  pursue  the  matter,  Mr.  Judas  Johns,  in 
the  way  you  propose.  The  train  leaves  at 
half -past  five.  It  will  take  you  an  hour  to 
get  over  there." 

"  You  ain't  going  to  play  any  dodge  on 
me,  are  you  ?  "  asked  Judas  Johns,  turning 
ghastly  white. 

"  I  could  n't  if  I  wanted  to.  The  police 
are  three  miles  away,  and  I  have  no  tele 
phone.  You  could  hide  in  the  woods  over 
yonder  a  week,  and  nobody  find  you.  No, 
I  do  not  think  it  my  duty  to  trouble  you  any 
further  than  to  ask  you  to  bring  our  inter 
view  to  an  end." 

"  I  ain't  the  burglar,  you  know,"  urged 
Judas  Johns.  "  My  business  never  has  run  in 


184  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

that  line."  He  rose  to  go,  glancing  uneasily 
about. 

"  I  understand/'  said  Corona.  Do  what 
she  might,  pity  half  slew  indignation  in  her 
soul,  as  she  looked  solemnly  at  the  weak  and 
cringing  figure  that  crawled  away  from  her. 
Judas  Johns  shook  now,  but  not  with  palsy ; 
and  staggered,  but  not  from  drink.  He  was 
the  picture  of  fear. 

"  I  've  had  a  fit  of  sickness,"  he  said.  "  I 
ain't  very  strong.  I  wish  I  was  —  in  New 
York.  I  have  n't  enjoyed  my  visit  to  this 
town.  It 's  a  Godforsaken  country." 

As  Judas  Johns  halted  on  the  steps  of  the 
cottage  to  look  up  and  down  the  street  with 
his  long,  furtive,  anxious  look,  curiosity  over 
came  stateliness  in  Corona,  for  that  last  mo 
ment's  chance,  and  she  asked  :  — 

"  Do  you  suppose,  Mr.  Johns,  from  your  — 
general  —  acquaintance  with  the  world  — 
have  you  any  idea  that  the  men  who  stole  my 
bond  were  the  same  that  stole  a  paper  of  tacks 
and  a  hatchet  and  so  on  in  the  neighborhood, 
early  in  June  ?  " 


JUDAS  JOHSS.  185 

"  What  do  you  take  'em  for  ?  "  cried  Mr. 
Judas  Johns. 

"  Then  it  was  n't  the  same  gang  ?  " 

"  Your  job  was  done  by  the  most  accom 
plished  cracksman  in  the  United  States.  Why, 
he  never  touches  anything  below  $500  !  " 

"  Was  it  the  peddler  ? "  asked  Corona, 
breathlessly.  But  Mr.  Johns  made  no  reply. 
He  put  his  hat  on,  jammed  it  well  over  his 
eyes,  and  moved  away. 

"  And   those    clews  —  all   those    clews  ?  " 
ventured   Corona.       "  The   local  police,  and 
the  State  police,  and  the  private  detective  - 
they  all  have  clews,  you  know.    Are  none  of 
them  "  —      She  stopped. 

Mr.  Judas  Johns  regarded  her  as  straight 
as  a  man  with  eyes  so  crooked  could  regard 
a  lady  who  had  shown  some  sense  in  a  trying 
position.  A  stray  smile  crept  across  his  un 
holy  features,  the  first  and  only  one  which  she 
had  seen. 

"  You  Jve  treated  me  like  a  —  like  a  — 
lady,"  he  said  slowly.  "  I  would  n't  spend  any 
more  money  if  I  was  you," 


186  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

"  You  're  sure  you  could  n't  advance  me 
passage-money  to  New  York,  are  you  ?  "  he 
added,  turning  round  when  he  had  gone  as 
far  as  the  clothes-post. 

"  Quite  sure.  But  I  will  give  you  an  omni 
bus  ticket  —  a  Fairharbor  omnibus  ticket  to 
the  station,  if  you  would  like  it." 

Mr0  Johns  replied  that  he  should  like  it 
very  much,  and  Corona  gave  him  an  omnibus 
ticket. 

Matthew  Launcelot  up  to  this  time  had 
remained  unsubmissive,  but  a  fixture  in  his 
mistress's  arms.  At  intervals  he  had  inter 
rupted  her  conversation  with  Mr.  Judas  Johns 
by  anguished  growls  and  yawns  of  thwarted 
ferocity  ;  now  and  then  he  struggled  like  the 
moral  law  in  the  grasp  of  the  Devil  and  all 
his  angels,  in  Corona's  tender  clutch.  As 

O  ' 

the  visitor  turned  to  go,  and  when  he  was 
well  past  the  doryful  of  nasturtiums,  and  down 
the  road,  and  through  the  gate,  the  dog  gave 
one  unearthly  yell,  and,  seeming  to  shriek  his 
soul  and  body  out  of  Corona's  arms  sprang 
from  them,  and  off  like  a  cannon-ball  after 
Mr.  Judas  Johns. 


JUDAS  JOHNS.  187 

"  Matthew  !  Matthew  Launcelot  !  Come 
back  !  Come  here  this  minute,  sir  !  Oh  ! 
Puelvir,  stop  that  dog  !  Matthew  Launcelot! 
Oh,  I  would  n't  have  had  this  happen  !  Mat- 
theio  I  PUELVIR  !  " 

"  Have  mercy  upon  ye  !  "  cried  Puelvir, 
running  wildly  about.  "  It 's  the  burglar  !  " 

"  It 's  not  the  burglar,  Puelvir  !  Stop  the 
dog  !  Matthew  Launcelot !  Don't  you  touch 
that  man  !  " 

"  If  it  ain't  t  burglar,  it 's  his  first  cou 
sin  on  the  mother's  side  !  "  rebelled  Puelvir. 
"  Don't  you  ask  me  to  stop  the  dog  for  you, 
Miss  Corona  !  " 

The  dog  had  leaped  as  far  as  the  gate  and 
stood  bristling  ;  at  his  mistress's  voice  he 
turned  his  angry  head ;  Mr,  Judas  Johns,  too 
terrified  to  hurry,  gave  one  beseeching  glance 
at  Corona  and  stood  still.  The  dog  he  could 
kick  into  the  Harbor  ;  but  against  the  scene 
he  was  powerless.  The  people  on  the  beach 
began  to  collect  in  groups  and  look  idly  up 
the  street.  All  the  consequences  forced  them 
selves  through  Corona's  imagination  in  an 
instant's  diameter. 


188  BURGLARS   ;N  PARADISE. 

"  Matthew  Launcelot,  come  here"  she  said, 
in  a  terrible  voice.  The  terrier  looked  at 
her  —  at  Mr.  Judas  Johns  —  and  at  her 
again.  All  the  while  he  was  barking  thun 
derously.  It  was  a  duel  between  the  dog  and 
the  mistress. 

"  Matthew  Launcelot,  you  have  no  business 
to  touch  that  person  !  Come  here,  sir  !  " 

Matthew  walked  deliberately  through  the 
gate,  up  the  street  a  little  way. 

"  Let  him  alone,  sir !  Come  here,  sir. 
Come  here  to  me  !  " 

"  Would  n't,  if  I  was  him  !  "  said  Puelvir, 
virtuously.  The  dog  looked  back  over  his 
shoulder. 

"  Come  here,  or  I  '11  —  I  '11  have  somebody 
else  beat  you !  "  called  the  mistress. 

The  dog  hesitated,  turned,  and  came  slowly 
back  ;  he  was  trembling  with  baffled  rage ; 
Corona  patted  him,  but  he  did  not  kiss  her. 
Outraged  respectability  flashed  from  his  fiery 
eyes.  A  creature  defeated  in  his  own  voca 
tion  —  a  conscience  called  off  its  post  of  duty 
by  another  conscience  —  Matthew  Launcelot 
obeyed,  because  he  was  a  dog. 


JUDAS  JOHNS.  189 

But  he  howled  after  the  retreating  figure 
of  Mr.  Judas  Johns,  as  it  passed  —  a  weak 
and  dreary  spectacle  —  up  the  street,  as  if 
the  foundations  of  human  civilization  depend 
ed  upon  the  amount  of  noise  that  could  bo 
made  before  the  wretched  man  had  turned 
the  corner. 


XI. 

WHAT    IS    CALLED  FRIENDSHIP. 

BUT  still  the  summer  took  to  herself  her 
scented  wings;  dipped  them  in  the  glowing 
waves  of  the  Harbor  as  she  flitted  over,  and 
lifted  them  dripping  with  the  deeper  colors 
of  the  harvest  days.  For  it  was  September 
in  Fairharbor ;  and  Paradise  had  abandoned 
its  search  for  the  registered  bond  No.  30,075 
of  the  Fee-Fi-Fum  and  I.  0.  U. 

A  full  account  of  the  visit  of  Mr.  Judas 
Johns  having  passed  from  the  lady  to  the 
detectives,  Messrs.  Hide  &  Seek  luminously 
replied  that  if  Judas  Johns  were  not  the  cel 
ebrated  fence,  Jib  Handover,  he  was  the  still 
more  celebrated  confidence  man,  Tib  Come- 
over.  In  either  case  she  had  been  dealing 
with  a  person  highly  accomplished  in  his  de 
partment,  and  had  effected  a  dextrous  escape 


WHAT  IS   CALLED   FRIENDSHIP.       191 

or  a  serious  mistake,  as  she  chose  to  regard  it, 
or  as  the  event  might  prove.  Messrs,  Hide 
&  Seek  intimated  that  she  should  have  tele 
phoned  to  themselves  before  she  let  the  fellow 
go ;  and  offered  (if  she  would  forward  $62.50 
more)  to  put  their  finger  on  him  and  inves 
tigate  his  game.  Messrs.  Hide  &  Seek  ob 
served  that  now  we  had  a  clew  that  was  worth 
something,  and  were  assured  that  she  would 
see  her  property  back  within  thirty  days. 
Corona  replied  that  she  hoped  she  should  ; 
and  that  any  clews  which  it  were  worth  any 
thing  to  anybody  else  to  follow  should  have 
her  benedictions  and  her  prayers,  but  that 
her  personal  assistance  must  henceforth  take 
this  more  spiritual  form.  She  urged  that  she 
had  now  contributed  as  much  to  the  support 
of  the  detective  system  of  the  country  as  she 
felt  to  be  her  quota,  even  from  the  most  pa 
triotic  point  of  view ;  the  only  thing  lacking 
to  the  completion  of  the  situation  was  that 
she  had  failed  to  pay  Judas  John's  return  ex 
penses  to  New  York.  This,  from  an  artistic 
aspect,  might  be  regretted.  Messrs.  Hide  & 


192  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

Seek  urged  the  matter  a  little.  They  went  so 
far  as  to  say  that  it  was  a  very  interest 
ing  episode,  and  that  Judas  Johns  might  in 
fact  have  really  been  in  the  state  of  health 
and  courage  which  he  represented.  Sickness 
quelled  those  fellows  easily  ;  and  he  had 
put  himself  into  a  neat  trap  if  things  went 
against  him.  On  the  other  hand,  if  he  was 
playing  the  sympathy  dodge,  seeing  he  was 
dealing  with  a  lady  —  nothing  was  more 
likely  —  it  would  be  equally  interesting  to 
settle  the  point. 

Corona  admitted  that  it  was  a  very  inter 
esting  point ;  but  added  that  the  looming 
architecture  of  the  almshouse  of  her  native 
State  was  nearer  to  the  leisure  of  her  imagi 
nation  at  the  present  time.  Not  a  five-cent 
nickel  more  should  she  amuse  herself  by  en 
gulfing  in  the  abyss  which  yawned  between  a 
burgled  bondholder  and  his  property,,  The 
burglar  was  welcome  to  her  $500  Fee-Fi-Fum 
and  I.  0.  U.  He  might  retire  from  business 
on  the  value  of  registration,  live  upon  his 
income,  and  become  an  innocent  member  of 
society. 


WHAT  IS   CALLED  FRIENDSHIP.      193 

To  this  conclusion  she  had  come  ;  and  to 
this  she  held. 

When  she  told  Puelvir  so,  Puelvir  said  it 
was  about  time.  She  said  they  were  nothing 
but  so  many  men  folks,  anyway  ;  and  land  ! 
what  could  you  expect?  Did  anybody  ever 
know  a  man  to  find  anything,  she  'd  like  to 
know  ?  If  it  was  his  boot-buttoner  or  his 
squash  -  hat,  did  n't  he  set  till  a  woman 
hunted  of  it  up?  It  was  n't  in  the  breed, 
Puelvir  said: 

Puelvir  felt  as  though  her  mistress,  after  a 
dissipated  career,  had  returned  to  the  bosom 
of  the  family.  She  petted  her  and  made 
much  of  her,  as  of  a  prodigal  in  an  advanced 
stage  of  penitence.  They  were  quite  by 
themselves  in  these  days  —  the  two  women, 
with  Matthew  Launcelot,  and  the  pretty 
horse  ;  for  it  was  September  in  Fairharbor. 

The  summer  guests  had  gone  with  the  wild 
roses  and  the  mosquitoes.  Only  a  few  saun- 
terers  remained  to  dot  the  beach  with  grace 
ful  outlines  ;  and  these  were  they  to  whom 
the  love  of  the  sea  is  a  passion,  not  a  friend- 
is 


194  BURGLARS   IN  PARADISE. 

ship.  In  the  deserted  scenery  "  T.  H.  Trader, 
Boxes  and  Shocks/'  again  became  a  promi 
nent  and  interesting  feature.  The  little  gar 
den-plots  in  front  of  the  cottages  lifted  the 
stray  blossoms  which  had  survived  the  botan 
ical  fact  that  flowers  are  not  called  upon  to 
grow  on  Cape  Ann  granite,  and  that  all  the 
beds  one  makes  wash  off  and  trickle  down, 
and  leave  the  seed  and  the  ledge  to  fight  it 
out  between  them.  What  was  properly  called 
"  the  garden  "  consisted  now  of  one  morning- 
glory  and  one  bachelor's  button,  and  these 
had  a  Septemberish  look,  as  of  a  flower  that 
was  feeling  bilious  but  would  not  own  it. 
But  the  doryful  of  nasturtiums  blazed  brave 
ly.  The  pads  of  the  round  leaves  alone  told 
the  tale  of  the  dying  year  ;  these  were  yel 
lowing  and  paling  ;  a  few  tones  behind  the 
blossom,  like  embroidery  done  in  tints  to 
match. 

It  was  lonely  in  Paradise  ;  but  it  was  lovely 
in  Paradise  ;  there,  as  so  often  elsewhere,  the 
two  came  near  to  being  the  same  thing.  Co- 
r pna;  after  the  agitations  of  the  summer,  sank 


WHAT  IS   CALLED  FRIENDSHIP.       195 

back  upon  the  cushion  of  her  solitude,  and 
drew  a  deep  breath.  Puelvir  came  often  on 
the  little  errands  and  deceptions  of  affection 
to  see  if  she  wanted  anything,  or  wanted  to 
want  anything. 

Matthew  Launcelot  jumped  into  her  lap 
without  the  form  of  an  invitation,  and  sat 
solid  upon  her  portfolio  or  her  book.  If  she 
intimated  that  some  other  location  or  position 
would  assist  her  occupations,  he  kissed  her. 
The  Lady  of  Shalott  came  faithfully  to  the 
clothes-post  every  day  ;  and  when  she  did  n't 
have  to  be  shod,  or  there  was  n't  a  nut  needed 
in  the  buggy,  or  Zero  did  n't  think  she  had 
a  cold,  and  had  better  not  go  out,  Corona 
drove  down  the  deepening  days,  over  and  over 
and  through  the  shore,  the  downs,  the  woods 
of  Essex,  and  the  distant  beaches  of  the 
Cape ;  and,  as  she  drove,  she  loved  every  wave 
and  pebble,  and  the  attitude  of  every  leaf, 
the  countenance  of  each  horizon :  and  for 
this,  as  for  all  loving,  grew  stronger  and  more 
capacious  for  love.  She  grew  very  fond,  too, 
of  the  Lady.  Who  could  help  it  ?  She  was 


196  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

as  dainty  and  feminine  a  creature  as  ever 
made  her  nine  or  ten  miles  an  hour,  and  an 
swered  to  the  voice  with  a  sensitiveness  which 
made  the  bit  seem  a  rudeness  and  the  whip 
ruffianly.  Corona  would  have  undergone  an 
other  burglary  for  her,  if  she  could  have  af 
forded  it.  But  Matthew  Launcelot  had  never 
forgiven  the  Lady  of  Shalott.  It  was  one  of 
the  exciting  incidents  in  this  solitary  life  — 
where  little  events  have  so  much  more  artistic 
proportion  to  the  prospective  than  larger  ones 
do  to  a  crowded  history  —  to  try  and  teach 
Matthew  Launcelot  to  go  to  ride.  This  he 
would  do  only  under  what  is  delicately  known 
in  asylums  as  "  restraint,"  howling  to  high 
heaven  all  the  time.  One  day  his  protest 
reached  a  climax  that  put  an  end  to  Corona's 
educational  efforts  in  that  direction.  As  she 
drove,  holding  the  dog  with  a  firm  arm,  and 
the  reins,  watchful,  with  the  fine  senses  of  an 
experienced  driver,  in  one  hand  —  Matthew 
Launcelot  yelping  as  if  he  were  having  his 
teeth  extracted,  and  the  Lady  of  Shalott,  with 
her  head  down,  flying  at  a  pretty  pace  up  the 


WHAT  IS   CALLED   FRIENDSHIP.       197 

crowded  street  of  the  little  town  —  the  dog, 
with  one  mighty  effort,  released  himself, 
leaped  over  the  dasher,  and  landed,  shriek 
ing  murderously,  directly  upon  the  horse's 
back.  There  was  one  black  instant,  one  swift 
struggle  between  horse  and  driver,  a  gath 
ering  of  people,  and  rushing  blindly  to  save 
life ;  but  before  hand  could  touch  bridle,  tho 
Lady  had  reared,  stopped,  shivered  a  little, 
planted  her  feet,  looked  over  her  shoulder, 
regarded  the  terrier  with  a  kind  of  scorn,  and 
proudly  stood  perfectly  still  till  he  jumped 
off.  She  disdained  to  run  for  him. 

After  this,  reconciliation  between  Matthew 
and  the  Lady  was  considered  as  one  of  the 
abandoned  hopes  of  life  ;  and  the  only  antag 
onism  in  Corona's  harmonious  family  circle 
remained  unadjusted. 

It  was  lovely  in  Paradise  ;  it  was  lonely  in 
Paradise.  In  the  cool  mornings  of  the  blue- 
and  -  gold  weather  Corona  held  to  her  fireside 
with  Puelvir  and  the  dog.  In  the  yellow 
noons  —  and  nothing  could  be  better  than  the 
September  noons  in  Fairharbor  — -  she  basked 


198  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

upon  tha  rocks  and  the  brown,  dry  grass 
which  crackled  beneath  her  as  she  stirred  lazi 
ly  below  the  staggering  sun  umbrella  to  turn 
the  page  that  flapped  against  the  rising  wind. 

Nothing  could  be  better  than  the  September 
noons  unless  it  were  the  September  moons. 
Then  there  seemed  to  arise  upon  the  world 
another  flood,  as  of  the  waters  that  were  above 
the  waters. 

In  the  glamour  the  ocean  lifted  itself  to 
meet  that  other  sea.  Silent  sails  glided  across 
the  Harbor,  like  thoughts  too  timid  to  be 
spoken.  As  one  looked  at  them  from  the 
shore,  and  watched  them  melt  into  the  long 
shadow  of  the  opposite  coast,  they  seemed 
like  something  precious  and  wasted.  As  one 
looked  from  them  into  the  water,  the  depths 
seemed  to  be  sucking  down  pearls,  tossed  by 
the  prodigal  moon,  one  guessed  not  why; 
and  lost,  one  knew  not  where. 

It  was  on  a  night  of  this  sort  that  the  in 
cident  which  I  have  now  to  relate,  for  history's 
sacred  sake,  took  place  at  the  Old  Maid's 
Paradise.  It  was  a  warm  night ;  one  of  the 


WHAT  IS   CALLED  FRIENDSHIP.      199 

warmest  that  September  hoards  for  her  lovers, 
and  lavishes  in  outbursts  of  tenderness  that 
the  soul  remembers. 

Corona  was  in  the  hammock  on  the  piazza, 
swinging  idly  there  alone  ;  a  scarlet  shawl 
hung  over  her  dress  of  thick  white  flannel,  and 
was  regarded  with  disfavor  by  Matthew  Laun- 
celot ;  for  the  fringe  tickled  his  ears.  Now 
and  then  Corona  patted  the  dog  absently,  with 
that  manner  which  seems  to  say,  You  are 
better  than  nobody  !  and  which  a  sensitive 
dog  will  resent  as  well  as  a  sensitive  man. 
Puelvir  had  gone  to  a  prayer-meeting,  on  the 
ground  that  she  felt  as  if  she  should  like  to 
go  and  set  somewhere  and  sing  alto.  The 
empty  house  was  quite  dark;  and  Corona's 
figure  in  the  white  foreground  seemed  to  ab 
sorb  a  disproportionate  amount  of  light.  She 
lay  so  still  that  she  looked  as  if  she  were 
carved  there  —  a  statue  of  Solitude,  content 
and  sweet. 

When  footsteps  hit  the  crisp  grass  and 
touched  the  lower  step,  she  stirred,  but  did 
not  start. 


200  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

When  a  face  —  unseen  for  God  knew  how 
long !  —  flashed  full  before  her  in  the  great 
breadth  and  extent  of  light,  she  did  not  cry 
out  nor  spring.  To  a  depth  below  all  that 
-  to  such  a  depth  as  astonishment  might 
strike  in  the  world  that  comes  after  this  — 
she  was  let  down,  down,  down  ;  and  then  her 
soul  stood  still. 

"  You  !  "  she  said.  "  You  ?  "  And  that 
was  all. 

"  You  look  just  as  you  used  to  look,"  he 
said  immediately,  in   his   old   candid,    blunt 
fashion.     "  You  have  not  changed." 
"  Are  you  sure  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  of  nothing.  I  wished  to  see 
you  —  it  is  a  good  many  years.  May  I  come 
up  there  ?  Don't  move." 

"  It  is  —  a  good  many  —  years." 

"  Don't  get  out  of  the  hammock.  I  like 
to  see  you  there.  You  have  not  altered.  I 
thought  you  would  have  aged.  I  have." 

«  Yes  ;  I  see.     You  look  ill." 

"  I  am  not  ill,  but  I  am  worn  out.  I  have 
had  care  and  trouble.  My  daughter  died  in 
July." 


WHAT  IS  CALLED  FRIENDSHIP.      201 

"  Oh  !  I  did  not  know.  It  must  have  f ol- 
lowed"- 

"  Yes ;  she  wore  herself  into  this,  taking 
so  much  care  and  all  that  nursing.  I  could 
not  prevent  it.  Her  mother's  sickness  was  a 
painful  one.  It  cost  two  lives." 

Corona,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  held 
out  her  hand  quite  in  silence  ;  words  could 
not  have  carried  what  it  seemed  idle  to  call 
sympathy,  and  yet  what  she  could  call  noth 
ing  else.  He  took  her  hand  with  evident 
gratitude  ;  that  trifling  sign  seemed  to  receive 
him ;  he  drew  a  chair  beside  her  hammock 
and  sat  there,  unbidden,  looking  down. 

"  I  am  coining  to  Fairharbor  to  stay  for  a 
few  weeks  at  the  hotel  —  if  I  may,"  he  be 
gan  again. 

"  Fairharbor  does  not  belong  to  me." 

"  I  thought  it  did.  But  I  will  not  stay  if 
it  be  objectionable  to  you.  I  don't  wish  to 
intrude  on  you.  I  never  did.  You  know 
that." 

"  How  could  it  matter  to  me  ?  "  said  the 
woman,  quietly.  She  glanced  at  her  empty 


202  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

house,  at  the  lonely  shore  ;  she  did  not  look 
at  her  old  friend. 

"  That  is  a  characteristic  answer.  I  sup 
pose  it  may  be  —  this  time  —  an  honest  one. 
I  am  honest,  too.  I  came  down  here  worn 
out,  as  I  tell  you.  I  wanted  rest,  and  the 
ocean.  When  I  got  here  I  found  you  were 
here.  So  I  came  to  see  you.  This  is  the 
truth." 

"Is  it?" 

"  The  holy  and  the  whole.  Do  you  mind 
having  me  for  a  neighbor  for  a  while  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  wrhether  I  do,  or  not.  It 
had  not  entered  into  my  plans  for  the  season. 
.  .  .  I  'm  sorry  for  you,  though  !  You  are 
in  affliction.  You  show  it." 

"  You  are  just  the  same  as  ever ! "  he  broke 
out  in  a  ringing  voice.  "  You  have  n't 
changed  either  for  worse  or  for  better.  You 
have  kept  all  those  ways  you  had  "  — 

He  laughed  a  little  ;  in  the  nervous,  half- 
boyish  manner  of  a  lonely  man  who  has  been 
traveling  some  time,  and  is  glad  to  have  some 
body  to  laugh  with,  or  even  to  laugh  at. 


WHAT  IS   CALLED  FRIENDSHIP.      203 

This  laugh  seemed  to  surprise  Corona.  At 
first  she  frowned  at  it ;  then,  before  she  knew 
what  she  was  doing,  she  had  shared  it.  The 
laugh  cleared  the  atmosphere  somehow ;  laugh 
ter,  like  tears,  can  be  a  powerful  conductor ; 
and  Corona,  rising  to  lift  herself  upon  one 
arm  in  the  hammock,  looked  straight  into 
his  face. 

"  Will  you  tell  me  what  it  is  you  want  ?  " 

"  A  neighbor  —  a  comrade  ;  gentleness  ; 
and  to  be  understood,"  he  said,  eagerly  ;  not 
in  the  paltry  tone  of  a  man  who  would  pro 
tect  himself,  but  in  that  of  one  who  fears  lest 
he  should  overstep,  "  perhaps  to  sit  on  your 
piazza  now  and  then.  I  shan't  bother  you. 
There  might  even  be  something  I  could  do  — 
some  service.  Is  n't  there  some  tinkering 
about  your  house  —  some  odds  and  ends  that 
a  man —  But  I  suppose  you  have  learned  to 
do  all  these  things  for  yourself." 

"  I  have  learned  to  do  a  good  deal  for 
myself." 

"  You  always  did.  You  began  so.  But  I 
would  n't  be  in  your  way,  you  know." 


204  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

"  I  suppose/'  said  Corona,  slipping  to  her 
feet,  and  lifting  "her  serious  eyes  again  to 
his,  as  the  two  stood  so  near  and  so  sepa 
rate,  in  the  grave  approach  of  their  middle 
life  —  I  suppose  you  refer  to  what  is  called 
friendship." 


XII. 

RECEIPTED    BILLS. 

"  SOMETHING  of  that  kind,  I  suppose,"  he 
said. 

"  At  our  age/'  he  added,  "  people  ought  to 
be  able  to  get  on." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  you,"  she  repeated.  "  You 
are  a  bereaved  man.  It  is  my  nature  to  be 
very  sorry.  But  I  had  not  thought  of  mak 
ing  —  new  friends." 

"  A  new  friend  !  Pretty  old  one,  Corona. 
Have  you  forgotten  ?  " 

The  woman  gave  him  an  inscrutable  look. 

"  In  middle  life,"  she  said,  "  memory  is 
always  a  selection." 

"  I  know  we  did  n't  get  on  then,"  he 
urged,  "  but  "  — 

"  Whose  fault  was  that  ?  "  she  flashed. 

"  Was  it  mine  ?  "  he  cried. 


206  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

"  Was  it  mine  ?  "  she  demanded. 

They  separated,  walked  the  length  of  the 
piazza,  and  returned,  and  stopped  beside  each 
other  ;  both  showed  agitation ;  but  the  woman 
not  a  symptom  of  tenderness.  It  was  he  who 
renewed  the  duel. 

"  I  only  asked  the  place  of  a  neighbor 
and  a  friend  :  old  or  new,  as  you  choose ; 
the  sense  of  not  troubling  —  any  one  ;  the 
knowing  that  I  was  welcome  ;  and  not  to  be 
always  running  against  the  thorns  in  your 
fragrance." 

"  You  always  talked  about  my  thorns  ! 
You  told  me  I  was  like  that  Indian  tree  whose 
flowers  were  so  —  so  beautiful ;  but  a  man 
tore  his  heart  out  before  he  could  gather 
them.  That  was  one  of  your  pointed  speeches. 
You  made  several." 

"  I  thought  it  was  you  who  said  those 
things.  You  have  n't  lost  the  faculty,  I  see. 
.  .  .  How  you  look  in  that  white  stuff  in  the 
white  light ;  and  how  red  that  shawl  is  !  I 
don't  see  that  you  have  grown  older  in  the 
face  by  one  day  or  night,  since  we  used  to 
battle  so." 


RECEIPTED  BILLS.  207 

"  We  always  quarreled.  We  always  shall. 
Don't  let  us  try  anything  of  any  kind  any 
more.  Let  the  old  gunpowder  —  and  the 
old  wounds  —  go  where  all  old  emotions  go. 
I  have  lived  without  your  friendship,  sir,  a 
good  many  years  !  " 

"  I  have  learned  to  do  without  it/'  she 
added. 

"Are  you  sure  you  could  n't  learn  to  do 
with  it  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  We  are  not  the  same.  We  are  different 
people.  Our  lives  lie  between  us.  You  have 
become  a  widower  ;  and  I,  an  old  maid." 

She  said  these  words  as  if  she  laid  down  a 
finality  in  the  classification  of  species ;  a  set 
of  terms  beyond  which  evolution  ceased.  He 
smiled  ;  but  she  did  not. 

"  It  was  you  who  did  it !  "  he  said,  below 
his  breath. 

She  made  him  no  reply. 

"  You  could  do  it,  too  !  " 

"  And  you  could  go  out  West  and  marry ! " 

"  I  am  a  man,"  he  said. 


208  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

"  And  I  a  woman." 

66  You  told  me  I  was  a  friend  with  one  let 
ter  left  out.  It  was  the  second  letter  too.  Do 
you  remember  that  ?  " 

"  And  you  told  me  there  was  an  antago 
nism  between  us.  You  said  I  kept  it  up." 

"  And  you  told  me  you  'd  rather  I  had 
been  drowned  yachting  that  summer  than  to 
have  lived  to  say  something  or  other  I  said  to 
you  one  morning." 

"  I  remember  that.     I  meant  it,  too." 

"  I  don't  doubt  you  did.  You  meant  them 
all.  You  were  the  loveliest  woman  I  ever 
knew  —  and  the  cruelest !  " 

"  I  was  young,  then/'  said  Corona,  in  a 
lower  voice. 

"  We  are  both  of  us  older,"  he  said,  more 
gently. 

"  Puelvir  is  coming  home,"  said  Corona, 
after  a  pause.  "  She  will  be  shocked  to  find 
me  talking  with  a  gentleman  so  late.  There 
is  not  a  soul  in  the  house,  you  know.  She  will 
think  she  ought  to  bring  her  knitting-work 
and  sit  on  the  piazza  with  us." 


RECEIPTED  BILLS.  209 

"  Puelvir  ?  She  is  —  perhaps  —  your  cha- 
perone  ? " 

"Puelvir  is  my  cook.  We  live  together 
by  ourselves.  I  am  very  fond  of  her.  She 
makes  me  quite  happy." 

"  Ask  Puelvir  if  I  may  come  over  and  see 
you  to-morrow  ;  will  you  ?  " 

"  Just  as  a  neighbor  ?  " 

"  Just  as  a  neighbor." 

"  And  what  you  call  a  friend  ?  " 

«  Yes.     What  I  call  a  friend." 

"  Not  to  quarrel  or  be  terrible,  as  you  used 
to  be?" 

"  To  be  different,  as  I  have  learned  to  be, 
Corona.  But  whether  we  quarrel  —  that  's 
for  you  to  say.  It  always  was." 

"  There  you  go  again  !  We  shall  come 
to  the  bayonet's  point  in  five  minutes.  I  'm 
afraid  it 's  in  us.  I  'm  afraid  we  can't  help  it. 
And,  you  see,  I  've  learned  so  well,  so  very 
well,  how  to  live  without  you." 

"  But  you  '11  ask  Puelvir,  won't  you  ? 
There  'd  be  no  harm  in  asking  ;  would 
there  ?  " 


210  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

"  N-n-no,"  said  Corona,  slowly.  "  Perhaps 
not.  I  will  ask  Puelvir." 

It  was  a  matter  of  keen  surprise  to  Corona 
—  who,  as  may  be  remembered,  had  long 
since  ceased  to  expect  things  —  to  find  that  a 
neighbor  made  a  difference.  Absolutely  it 
did  make  a  difference  in  life.  To  stir  in  the 
morning,  turning  the  opening  eyes  upon  the 
rising  tide,  and  remember  that  something  was 
going  to  happen  to-day  —  this  was  a  strange 
matter.  To  lock  the  doors  at  night  —  how 
much  later  than  she  was  used  need  not  be 
specified  —  and  shut  herself  in  by  the  moon 
lit  windows,  and  watch  the  water  ebb,  as 
thought  was  ebbing  after  flood,  and  say,  "- 1 
have  had  a  pleasure  to-day,"  or,  "  I  shall  have 
another  to-morrow,"  —  this,  in  Paradise,  was 
a  novelty.  To  be  watched  as  she  moved 
about  on  little  errands,  to  be  understood  in 
trifling  things,  to  have  small  wishes  respected 
or  even  forestalled ;  to  share  a  drive,  a  walk, 
a  poem,  tea,  a  full  moon,  a  high  tide,  a  letter, 
or  an  anxiety  —  to  this  grave  and  quiet  com 
radeship  our  sunny-hearted  old  maid  adapted 


RECEIPTED  BILLS.  211 

herself  with  the  calm  content  of  one  who 
wished  for  nothing  more  than  this ;  and  who 
had  so  long  lived  on  infinitely  less  that  she 
could  readily  lay  it  all  down  again  when  the 
time  came,  and  fall  back  upon  her  appren 
ticeship  of  solitude,  as  people  whose  health 
fails  in  a  higher  avocation  fall  back  upon  a 
trade  learned  and  stored  away  in  the  brain 
cells  long  ago. 

Nothing  was  more  amazing  than  to  see  the 
stir  that  a  man  made  in  this  later  Paradise. 
Did  the  woman  in  that  other  make  more  ? 
It  was  a  discovery  to  Corona  that  a  man  could 
be  put  to  so  many  intelligible  uses.  It  seemed 
incredible  that  a  lock  could  be  tinkered,  a 
slat  mended,  a  blind  hung,  a  loose  nut  discov 
ered  in  an  axle  without  riding  six  miles  and 
paying  two  dollars  to  achieve  these  high  do 
mestic  ends.  The  mysteries  of  shoeing  and 
shorts  assumed  now  a  clearness  amounting 
to  the  commonplace.  It  was  no  longer  found 
necessary  to  keep  the  oat-barrel  in  the  pantry 
because  the  horse  eat  it  up  nights  in  the  barn  ; 
methods  of  solving  this  problem  evolved  them- 


212  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

selves,  one  knew  not  how.  Even  that  deli 
cately  balanced  question,  the  precise  length 
at  which  you  could  teach  Zero  to  tie  a  halter 
so  that  the  Lady  could  lie  down  if  she  want 
ed  to,  and  yet  not  break  her  leg  if  she  did  n't 
want  to,  was  disposed  of  with  what  seemed 
to  be  superhuman  ease.  So  strange,  and 
never  the  less  strange,  it  grew,  to  have  a  man 
in  Paradise. 

To  Puelvir  the  novelty  presented  what  we 
are  accustomed  to  call  the  other  side  of  a 
question.  Puelvir  was  not  happy.  Between 
the  guest  and  the  serving-maid  existed  a  fixed 
lack  of  sympathy,  such  as  was  accepted  be 
tween  Matthew  Launcelot  and  the  Lady  of 
Shalott.  One  evening,  when  they  were  lock 
ing  the  house  at  the  abandoned  hour  of  half- 
past  ten,  Puelvir  said,  stiffly,  to  her  mis 
tress,  — 

"  I  turned  off  the  raspberry  man  for  you." 
"  Dear  me,  Puelvir  !    What  can  you  possibly 

95  j 

Corona  turned  her  laughing  face,  in  which 
the  passing  youth  had  been  captured  in  these 


RECEIPTED  BILLS.  213 

pleasant  days  —  it  was  amazing  how  young 
she  could  look !  —  Corona  turned  her  bright 
eyes  upon  the  sober,  faithful  creature  to 
whom  "  what  is  called  friendship  "  had  not 
happened. 

"  I  mean  what  I  say/'  said  Puelvir,  looking 
gray.  "  And  them  two  widderers  besides.  I 
never  thought  it  of  you,  Miss  Corona,  that 
you  'd  go  back  on  me  !  " 

Puelvir  wiped  two  strange,  big  tears  from 
her  gaunt  cheeks.  She  said  no  more.  She 
felt  that  she  had  exhausted  the  deepest  sub 
ject  of  her  life. 

"  Puelvir  !  Come  here,  Puelvir  !  Do  you 
think  —  did  you  suppose  —  have  you  imag 
ined  "  - 

"  My  folks  give  me  common  senses  when  I 
was  borned  to  'em.  There  hain't  no  lunatics 
in  our  fambly  ;  nor  half-witted  ones,  neither. 
We  ain't  eddicated,  but  we  ken  learn  oar 
multiplication  table.  Some  of  us  got  so  far 
as  the  spellin'-book." 

"  But,  Puelvir,  upon  my  word  of  honor,  I 
have  not  once  thought  of  such  a  thing ;  I  am 


214  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

not  —  it  is  too  late  for  that,  Puelvir.  I  have 
no  intentions  in  that  direction,  whatever.  I 
like  my  way  of  life  better  as  I  am.  Even 
if  I  did  n't,  the  man  does  n't  live  who  could 
part  me  from  you,  Puelvir.  You  Ve  stood  by 
me  —  you  've  made  my  lonely  home  a  comfort 
to  me.  You  might  have  known  I  would  ap 
preciate  it." 

"  I  never  done  it  to  be  appreciated/'  beamed 
Puelvir.  She  wiped  her  eyes  and  took  to  her 
dusting  vigorously.  Her  homely  face  shone. 

"  You  must  understand  the  case,  Puelvir. 
This  gentleman  is  nothing  but  an  old  friend. 
He  will  never  be  anything  else  to  me.  I  can't 
help  being  kind  to  him,  Puelvir ;  for  he  is  in 
such  trouble  "  — 

"  Think  so  !  "  said  Puelvir.      "  Acts  like 

it!" 

"  And  he  is  such  a  very  old  friend  "  — 
"  Hm-m-m-m  !  "  said  Puelvir,  solemnly. 
"  So  that 's  what  you  call  a  friend  is  it  ? 
You  'd  ought  to  know  your  own  business.  It 
ain't  my  place  to  free  my  mind ;  I  know  it 
ain't.  I  don't  move  in  the  upper  classes,  nor 


RECEIPTED  BILLS.  215 

I  never  did.  But  among  my  kind  of  folks 
we  call  it  keepin'  company.  Lord  bless 
you,  Miss  Corona,  anyhow/'  added  Puelvir. 
a  Call  the  creetur  what  you  like.  'T  ain't  no 
odds  to  me  what  name  you  give  him,  so 
long  's  he  don't  part  us  and  amuses  you.  He 
might  as  well  make  himself  useful  someways. 
I  don't  doubt  it 's  the  first  time  in  his  life ; 
you  ken  tell  him  I  said  so,  if  you  want  to." 

He  did  make  himself  useful,  in  particular 
about  that  burglary.  With  such  masculine 
vigor  did  he  approve  of  Corona's  determina 
tion  not  to  pursue  the  search  for  her  prop 
erty  that  he  effectually  crushed  wrhatever  re 
capitulation  of  her  decision  Messrs.  Hide  & 
Seek  or  feminine  frailty  may  have  suggested. 

"  Stop  where  you  are,"  he  said.  "  Stop 
just  here.  It  is  like  spiritualism  or  faro. 
You  will  be  drawn  on  by  the  invisible  delusion 
of  the  game,  if  you  suffer  it.  You  have  done 
the  sensible  thing.  Now  stick  to  it.  Let  me 
see  your  bills  for  this  affair,  may  I  ?  Suppose 
we  go  over  it  together." 

Corona  had  her  lap  full  of  bills  ;  receipted 


216  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

bills ;  a  frowning  pile,  built  since  the  bur 
glary.  With  a  merry  laugh,  she  tossed  them 
over.  How  amusing  was  care,  with  some  one 
on  the  sofa  to  make  light  of  it ! 

He  took  the  bills,  ran  his  eye  over  them, 
took  out  his  note-book  and  stylograph,  and 
quickly  did  a  sum  in  addition ;  whose  items 
he  read  aloud  to  Corona  as  follows : 

For  printing  circulars $27  55 

Postage 4  50 

Travel  of  police 18  72 

Detectives 225 

Travel  of  police 2  35 

Advertising 83  25 

Agent  to  New  York 50  00 

Omnibus  ticket  to  Judas  Johns    ....         25 

Telegraphing 5  10 

Travel  and  sundries  .  65  27 


Total $482 

"  It  is  a  pity,"  said  Corona,  after  a  pause. 
"Can't  we  make  it  up  to  $500  any  way  in 
the  world?" 

"  I  'm  afraid  not.  I  Ve  tried.  It  is  a 
pity." 


RECEIPTED  BILLS.  217 

"  I  see  but  one  course  open  to  me/'  said 
Corona,  brightening.  "  I  must  give  a  party. 
I  must  give  a  party  to  Mr.  Pushett  and  those 
gentlemanly  persons  on  the  State  force,  and 
Mr.  Hide  and  Seek,  and  —  oh  !  Mr.  Judas 
Johns,  and  the  officers  of  the  Fee-Fi-Fum 
and  I.  0.  U.  I  must  invite  all  my  fellow- 
creatures  who  have  so  nobly  contributed  to 
the  recovery  of  my  property.  That  would 
easily  bring  it  up  to  $500,  don't  you  think  ? 
We  might  call  it  '  The  Detective  Detected/ 
or  some  other  of  those  fashionable  titles.  It 
would  be  a  pleasant  domestic  scene." 

"  I  '11  churn  the  ice-cream  for  you.  May 
I  ?  You  don't  know  what  ice-cream  I  can 
make.  I  put  a  little  pepper  in  it." 

They  looked  at  each  other  merrily,  laugh 
ing  at  their  protoplasmic  wit,  as  contented 
people  laugh  at  little  things. 

"  On  the  whole,"  said  Corona,  "  there  is 
an  obstacle.  My  guests  would  all  have  to 
have  their  traveling  expenses  paid,  I  suppose. 
That  goes  without  saying.  At  the  last  mo 
ment  some  of  them  would  telephone :  '  Send 


218  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

$75  more,  and  I  '11  come.'  I  'm  afraid  it 
would  mount  up.  And  over  $500  I  don't 
see  my  way  to  go.  I  think  we  must  aban 
don  the  party." 

She  gathered  up  all  her  bills,  and  filed 
them  away  in  silence.  He  sat  and  watched 
her. 

"  I  wish,"  he  said  at  last,  in  one  of  those 
tentative  tones  which  might  pass  for  jest  or 
earnest,  as  the  speaker  chose,  or  as  the  hearer 
decreed  — "  there  is  one  other  bill  I  wish  I 
could  see  receipted  in  full.  I  suppose  you 
think  you  have  one  against  me  ?  I  wish  you 
did  n't.  But  I  'm  afraid  you  do." 

She  made  no  answer  to  him  just  at  that 
moment.  She  felt  choked.  How  should  he 
understand  ?  How  could  he  ?  No  man  who 
could  have  let  it  all  happen  as  it  had  could 
understand.  Deeper  than  ever  delusion 
sounded,  she  knew  this;  for  then,  for  now, 
and  for  all  time. 

Through  her  musings,  as  she  sat  there 
silent  still  —  for  what  had  she  to  say  ?  — 
there  ran  in  characters  fantastic  the  items  of 


RECEIPTED  BILLS.  219 

that  other  account,  kept  in  the  ledger  of  a 
woman's  heart,  by  the  stern  book-keeper, 
Time,  who  makes  no  false  entry,  and  accred 
its  or  discredits  to  the  fraction  of  the  bitter 
or  the  blessed  truth  :  — 


to Dr. 


For  putting  a  woman  where  she  could  not  speak  for 
herself. 

For  not  comprehending  what  she  did  n't  say 

For  believing  what  she  did. 

For  her  suffering  more  than  he  was  worth. 

For  her  not  minding  whether  he  was  worth  it,  or 
not. 

For  fifteen  years  of  separation. 

For  her  living  alone  till  she  had  rather  live  alone. 

For  sundries  which  cannot  be  recorded,  and  should 
n't,  if  they  could. 

Received  payment  in  full,  . 

"No,  no!"  cried  the  woman.  "No!  It 
can  never  be  done." 

"  I  begin  to  see  it  all  a  little  differently," 
he  urged,  gently.  "  I  don't  say  that  I  did  n't 
make  mistakes.  I  should  like  —  In  your 
book-keeping,  Corona,  are  not  old  debts  out 
lawed,  sometimes  ?  " 


220  BURGLARS  IN  PARADISE. 

She  smiled,  and  shook  her  head  ;  and  then 
she  shook  her  head,  and  smiled  again.  They 
would  be  good  friends,  she  said ;  that  was 
much  to  be  ;  but  for  that  other  record,  turn 
the  page,  and  speak  of  it  no  more. 

He  spoke  of  it  no  more ;  at  least,  not  then. 
He  was  grateful  to  be  her  neighbor,  her  com 
rade,  and  to  serve  her  as  he  could.  By  that 
ancient  ladder,  the  golden  ladder  on  which 
the  angels  of  trust  and  sympathy  ascend  to 
human  hearts  —  by  the  old,  old  ladder  of 
Friendship,  had  the  most  dangerous  house 
breaker  of  all  climbed  up  to  Paradise  ? 


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Recollections  of  Auton  House.     Illustrated.     Small 

4to 1.25 

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A  Chance  Acquaintance.  Illustrated.  I2mo  ...  1.50 


8  Works  of  Fiction  Published  by 

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A  Foregone  Conclusion.     121110 1.50 

The  Lady  of  the  Aroostook.     i2mo 1.50 

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Edition.     i6mo i.oo 

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I.  Exile.  X.  Childhood. 

II.  Intellect.  XI.  Heroism. 

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VII.  Romance.  XVI.  Nature. 

VIII.  Mystery.  XVII.  Humanity. 

IX.  Comedy.  XVIII.  Authors. 


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